I Walk a Lonely Road
by WhiteWolf815
Summary: I have done many things in my life. I have run away, I've lived on the streets, I have learned to fight, and much more. But the one thing I have never learned how to do is trust someone. But I know that someone will eventually break those walls down and see me for who I really am. My name is Aria Slade-Cage, and this is my story of how I discover a secret war and learn to trust.
1. Car Chases and Craziness

This is my first story so please review and tell me what you think. I do accept constructive criticisms. Also be aware I do quote Burn Notice and a couple other works on this.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers Prime or any of the quotes except my OC and the rest.

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Car Chases and Craziness**

I've seen the hard side of life. That's no lie. Many people claim to have seen it, but only a few have truly had it rough. We as humans are capable of adapting to multiple situations, but only that handful of people realize it.

But even for those special few, there is only so much you can weather before it all comes crashing down on you.

However for those of us who can stay strong and weather the storm, we typically come out on top to find that the rewards are indeed sweet.

So where do I start? Well I guess where any story begins: the beginning.

My story takes place in a little town of Jasper, Nevada…

* * *

Gazing around at all of the all-too familiar street corners that zoomed by, I sighed in exasperation, feeling slightly annoyed as I tried and failed to think of something creative to occupy my mind, as I drove towards my destination. One thing to know about Jasper, Nevada is that it is, by far, the most boring place in the world. Compared to other towns, it would probably rank the lowest in a 'most interesting places to see' contest. It's extremely drab, and after a few years of seeing the same old buildings and familiar street corners, one can go a little stir crazy. Or, at least in my case, I definitely do sometimes.

I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Aria Slade-Cage, and for the most part, I'm just your average teenager. Mostly. Waist-length blonde hair with some red and blue colored bangs, and grey eyes coupled with plain or average looks; I look like your average 18 year old high school student. Then, of course, when you finally meet me, there is my seemingly hostile or indifferent disposition. Let's just say that most people to tend to dislike me right off the bat after the first initial meeting. But that's okay with me; I've earned the right to be that way along time ago.

Turning another corner, my intended destination finally came into view: KO drive burger joint.

Now, before you jump to conclusions, going there to eat glorified artery-clogging burgers and fries was never in my intentions. In fact, I try to avoid eating that gunk at all costs. No, I was only there for _someone_ , not something. Driving up on my red and blue 2015 Kawasaki Ninja 300 ABS motorcycle and parking, I pulled off my matching helmet just in time to see a tall, dark-haired teen walking out of the burger joint, talking on his phone. To a trained eye, it was obvious that whomever he was talking to on the other end seemed to be babying him. Finally, after a minute of exasperated and extremely short-as-possible teenager-like answers, the guy hung up, heaving a relieved sigh as the connection was terminated. I smiled. Typical parent-teen phone conversation.

"Ah, the perils of being a teenager," I sighed dramatically, drawing his attention. "Annoying worry wart mothers, overprotective dads, curfew, psycho exes… And it all just makes you wanna book the next train outta here. Am I right?"

He just rolled his eyes at my theatrics. "Yeah that sounds about right. Except for the psycho exes' part, that is. I think that's more your thing."

I just grinned, unfazed by his accusation. "Better watch it then Darby, otherwise little Miss Sierra might turn into your first," I replied cheekily, making kissy lips.

Jackson Darby, or Jack, as most of his friends called him, (though to be a rebel, I sometimes called him by his last name for fun). He seemed to be the only exception out of the majority of the people who were put off by my apathetic demeanor (him and his mom that is). I've known him since I was like eleven years old; we were more like brother and sister than best friends. Hell! I'll even go over to his place every once in a while and spend the night with him and his mom. And even though we were older now, with jobs and school and everything, we still found time to talk and hang out; we were just that close.

Anyway, Jack has this huge crush on this girl named Sierra who goes to our high school. He's too chicken to admit it, and he's never told me that personally, but it's just that obvious, at least to me. Sometimes he's even gone to me for girl advice, but I'm no love expert so I typically just tell him the same thing I do every time: 'don't change; be yourself.' Either way though, just so long as he didn't drool on me whenever she walks by, I couldn't care less about him romancing her; I have more important stuff to worry about.

"W-whatever, at least my current romance isn't my latest project, Slade," he snipped back though I could see the faint blush tinting his cheeks.

I shrugged nonchalantly at his comment, not in the least bothered. "What can I say? At least my men listen to me and the relationships are easy to handle. Not to mention that the breakups are a lot less messy. No muss, no fuss." The only love I had in my life was fixing up old cars and motorcycles, and that was enough for me. Besides, I'm not really a people person.

"Whatever you say, Aria," he said rolling his eyes. "I'll be sure to get you your official crazy cat lady starter kit, complete with 10 cats, for your…." he trailed off, catching sight of wicked looking blue motorcycle. "Whoa."

 _Ah, another of Jacks' little secret fantasies strikes again_ , I thought, rather amused. Ever since I can remember, Jack has always wanted a motorcycle. When we were younger, Jack practically begged after his mother for a motorcycle, but every time she shot him down, repeatedly telling him ' _no_ '. I would have given him one by now, but his mother explicitly forbade me from even allowing him near one.

"I love you," he whispered not taking his eyes off of it, before walking over to examine it more carefully. "Hello, beautiful. Where have you been all my life?"

"Uh, probably in someone else's good care," I told him, hoping he would take a hint.

"Nice," I heard him murmur as he ran his hands along the leather seat.

"Uh-uh, get your sticky paws off, unless you want the owner to come back and chop them off for you," I warned him though, I couldn't help secretly admiring it too. As a mechanic, I have every right to have an interest in these sorts of things. It's like some deep seeded instinct I guess: whenever I see a beautiful vehicle I can't help but secretly admire it. Anyways, as my eyes scanned over it, I couldn't help but take in the details. From the looks of the motorcycle, whoever owned it had really taken good care of her. In a way, it was almost _inhuman_ how spotless it was.

"I won't stop them if they get trigger happy, Darby."

Sadly, my words were wasted on deaf ears, as he was already mounting it. "It may take a few KO paychecks," he told it. "But I am going to own a ride like you some day."

I shook my head at his antics. Now I'm all for talking to my vehicles. I do it all the time when I'm repairing them, but the way Jack was so wrapped up in his little motorcycle fantasyland was getting a little ridiculous. I decided to change tactics.

"If you're going to make out with that motorcycle, then please, for the love of God, get a room. And don't forget to wear protection." _That_ caught his attention.

However, just as he was about to respond, a loud revving of engines and bright headlights shining in his face cut him off.

Next thing I knew, the twin cars were charging at us, ties screeching as the blue motorcycle seemed to rev in response, and _of its own accord_ , before doing an of awkward wheelie of sorts, and speeding away with Jack clinging to it for dear life to it. I could hear him screaming all the way as the twins raced after them.

 _Well, if it's a car chase they want, it's a chase they'll get_. _Nobody messes with my little brother._

Jamming my helmet back on, I proceeded to give chase, and hopefully find out what the hell is going on.

Following at a safe distance, I watched as the motorcycle seemed to intentionally slow down before immediately speeding up, causing the identical cars to smash into each other and start to slide out of control for a moment. The moments distraction was all the motorcycle needed though, as it sped into an alley. Sadly, the tactic didn't buy us very much time as they recovered and followed my friend on the rogue motorcycle into the alley.

Skidding to a halt at the entrance of the small, dead-end alley, I peered in only to receive the shock of my life. The cars had split up, one chasing my friend as he ran away on foot, him screaming something about not even 'knowing her', and the other chasing the _riderless_ motorcycle.

Staying put, I watched as the motorcycle did a quick three-sixty before jumping on the hood of the car pursing it and speeding off to rescue Jack. And once again we were off, this time racing towards the highway.

 _Grrr…. I really hate car chases_ , I growled in my mind. Yes, I've been in a couple car chases before and I can tell you they are not pleasant. Mainly, it's the level of danger they pose. Speeding down the highway at several miles per hour and trying to avoid basically being turned into bug paste is not the easiest thing to do. In general, one wrong move and _BAM!_ You're roadkill.

I swerved on the highway to avoid the oncoming shots behind me.

 _Seriously? Ugh…._ The other reason I hate them so much is that they are just plain old frustrating; every single time it seems that the guy chasing you has an unfair advantage. You have a motorcycle with minimal cover? They have a car. You got a fast ride? Well they have a gun. You have to drive and shoot? Too bad, they've got a driver and a shooter. You drive through a crowded street? Well guess what honey-bun: you just gave them a clear way. Oh joy.

Thankfully, the key thing to remember is that it's not about who can drive the fastest, but who can think the fastest, the most strategically, on their feet. When you are pursuing someone it's tempting to focus exclusively on overtaking the other person. It's often better to force to person you're chasing—or chasing you—to go faster than the terrain allows and wait for them to make a mistake. If you keep that all in mind, you pretty much have the chase in the bag.

Risking a glance in my rearview, I moaned in despair. _A third car?! How many look-alikes do these guys have for Pete's sake?_

I dodged a few more shots from behind.

Okay, whoever these guys were, several things were pretty clear about them. For one, they were obviously professionals, probably for hire. Second, whoever probably hired them didn't care who or what got in their way. Thirdly, anyone perceived to be associated with their main target was to be eliminated as well it seemed. Meaning, Jack and I were now targets, and now our lives had probably just gone to hell.

Sighing, I knew what I had to do.

Every vehicle has three points of vulnerability: the driver, the engine, and the tires. A can of paint across the windshield can blind the driver. A 50-millimeter cannon can take out an engine. But neither will guarantee that a car won't swerve into oncoming traffic. But if you force a car's front tires off the road, then you drastically reduce its maneuverability. Of course, getting a car's tires off the road is much more difficult than it sounds, and a hell of a lot more dangerous. What I had planned was much worse.

Thinking quickly, I glanced around at the almost empty highway to make sure it was clear, not even taking the time to wonder why it was so empty. Then, flipping a special switch on my bike, I pushed the button and watched out of my rearview as the car behind me started skidding on the oil slick I had created. Finally, reaching into the little pouch on my bike, I popped out a little device before pushing the button in the middle causing it to start blinking before throwing it behind me in the slick.

The car didn't stand a chance for what came next. Suddenly, the entire black slick caught on fire and before the car could fully get off of it a loud _BOOM_ could be heard behind me as the car probably exploded. _See you in hell sucker_.

Getting vibe that someone else was coming, I glanced behind to see a yellow and black Camaro emerge from the smoke. I didn't get the vibe that it was hostile, so as it got up next to me, I gave it a two finger-salute before pouring on the speed and aligning side-by-side with Jack; I swore I saw it flash its lights at me in my rearview.

Jack glanced at me with a worried look I understood. I nodded my head in response. No matter what happened I would make sure we would get us out of this situation alive.

Still pissy about being shot at, I pushed the visor on my helmet up a bit, I shouted over the wind, "What the hell, Jackson Darby?! Why are those guys shooting at us? Did you do something?"

"There is no 'us' kids," said a gruff female voice. "And they're no guys."

I stared a little in shock at Jack's ride. _Did it just…?_

Looking behind us, I groaned. The twins were catching up again.

Thankfully, the black and yellow muscle car came to our rescue, smashing into one of the twins and causing the two to collide, and fall back before pulling into and extremely smooth spin around/about-face maneuver.

 _Okay, seriously, who are these guys? CIA car fanatics? If so, I seriously wanna join. They have got some smooth moves, not to mention some hot wheels_.

"Friend of yours?" Jack asked nervously, looking at the car behind us.

"Family." Came the bikes' short reply. From her tone, I could tell whoever said it was smirking slightly.

Sadly, our victory proved to be short lived as we zoomed on. _These guys just don't know when to give up, do they_? I thought exasperatedly as the identical cars came into view in my rearview. I had to give them points though, they sure were determined. Whoever wanted us dead must've really paid these guys well; I slammed my visor back down to cover my face fully from the high speed wind again.

I watched helplessly as the yellow and black blocked the other two, before they both got wise and slammed him into the guardrail, kicking up a huge cloud of dust. _Shit! I hope that guy's alright_.

Not stopping, we raced on, Jack and I both glancing nervously over our shoulders. Finally I saw it: a road construction sign, dead ahead. Jack started freaking out when he saw it but I remained calm knowing perfectly well what to do in these types of situations.

Jack yelled in fear, clinging for dear life as the motorcycle jumped clear over the side of the guardrail. _Wuss_.

I made the jump, sailing over the edge into the street canal slope below. Still gunning the throttle, I let my engine and the momentum carry my bike down the slope at a fast speed, revving the engine a little harder as I made the edge drew nearer. Giving one last rev as I sailed over the edge, I then proceeded to cut it altogether as I flew through the air; I landed, pulling to a screeching halt into a smooth U-turn right next to Jack and his new 'friend-slash-ride'.

A young boy with glasses gasped in awe at our sudden, yet flashy, arrival. "Woahh…"

As the small dust cloud we'd kicked up settled, Jack sat up straighter gasping for air. "Ugh, you have no idea," he said slowly. He then proceeded to slowly dismount, probably shaken a bit by the experience, before stepping away cautiously; the boy approached us, probably thinking we were extreme sports racers or something.

Hearing engines in the distance, I groaned in despair. "Those dimwits don't know when to take a hint do they?" I frowned as three pairs of headlights appeared at the crest of the ridge.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the kid and Jack both backing up nervously at the lights as the triplets (I guess you could call them that) drove down the hill towards us. One looked as if it was covered in black smudges of ash, dented and scraped up in several places, and possibly leaking some weird, glowy blue stuff from underneath. I assumed that it was safe to bet that it was the guy that I attempted to blow up. _Oh come on! Seriously, what does it take to get rid of these guys? You smash them and they barely even get a scratch. You send them skidding, crashing into each other, it barely leaves a dent. Seriously, what are these guys made of?_ I thought frantically.

What happened next was totally out of my control. The cars jumped off the edge and then _**transformed**_ midair into these giant, freaky looking robot-like things, before landing in front of us.

Each one of them landed in a fighting stance, gazing at us menacingly, arms transforming into cannons. And despite the weird way their helms were shaped, I could've sworn the scorched one was glaring at me in particular. _Oh boy. No wonder he looks so mad_ , I thought sarcastically. _I technically just tried to kill it-er...him._

They pointed their arm-cannons-thingies at us; I could hear the hum of them charging up power.

Glancing to the side, I watched as Jack's ride also transformed into a kick-ass female-looking robot in response.

 _Well that's one mystery of the talking motorcycle solved_.

Her stern blue eyes—at least I guessed that they were eyes—were focused in a glare at the other three bots, who were definitely male from the looks of them. "This ends here 'Cons," she told them sternly before charging, almost gracefully, towards them at full speed, avoiding blaster fire as she made her charge.

I moved the boys to the side out of harms way but watched in awe as she kicked one of the bot's down, before swiftly advancing on the other two and doing the same to them. Wherever she learned those moves, I could immediately tell she was a skilled fighter.

"W-what are they?" the kid with spiky brunette hair asked in awe, drawing my attention back to the two boys, as we all watched the bots fight.

"Talking cars that turn into robots," Jack said, his voice hoarse and laced with fear. "O-or the other way around."

For some reason, I got the feeling that the latter was more accurate, but he was only half right, but I was too occupied to tell him so.

We all watched, transfixed, as the fem-bot kicked, fought, and punched the dark-colored bots, practically beating them to pulps. Then I noticed something, one of the bots that had been previously knocked down by a powerful blow to the head, was now getting up again, and he was sneaking up behind the lone bot who was obviously trying to save us. And just my luck, it was the same one I had tried to blow up.

Aware I didn't have much time left, I didn't really think as I revved my motorcycles engine before screeching off, heading straight for the bastard who was going to pull a sneaky-underhanded attack on our savior; I ignored Jack's calls to come back. Rearing up slightly on my back wheel, I then proceeded to press another button on my motorcycle. This time a grappling hook and line shot out, heading straight for 'tall, dark and scary'. With a loud screech of metal on metal, the hook penetrated the evil robot of dooms' left arm. The prongs on it elongating, making it impossible to remove without a lot of pain or cutting the line.

 _That is, if robots feel pain_ , I thought offhandedly, in a sort of morbid curiosity. _Oh well, a question for another time_.

Thinking quickly as the bot clawed at the thing imbedded in its circuits, I began circling the guy on my motorcycle, slowly tying him up with each lap.

 _I just hope this works_.

By now the robots' arms were pretty much tethered to its sides. Unfortunately though, he had caught onto my plan. He tried to pull me off balance with a sharp tug on the rope, but I pulled in the opposite direction, doing my best to stay balanced. When that didn't work, the robot tried to kick at me. When one foot came particularly too close for comfort, I decided to take a slight 'detour' from my original plan. Swerving dangerously, I made a figure eight maneuver around his legs before continuing my original laps around the giant evil robots' legs.

Vaguely, I was aware that back-up had arrived, and that the yellow bot, who had saved our bacon on the highway, had arrived.

Soon enough the robot was completely wrapped up in the metal cable. I just prayed to hell it would hold at least a little longer for what came next. Giving one sharp pull with my motorcycle, the bot fell down, completely helpless as he struggled against the bonds.

Finally, it was time. Flipping one last switch on my bike, I watched as the bot before me screeched as several volts of electricity surged through the cable, and the bot, before he went limp.

"And the walls came a tumblin' down," I drawled lowly.

Clicking the button that fired the grappling hook in the first place once again, I released the cable from the bike. By now, my motorcycle was, if not already, completely drained of power. Pushing it over to the side of the fight, I grabbed everything I could off of it, except the tracking beacon, which I turned on, before racing over to Jack and the spiky-haired kid.

The other bots were still fighting; the yellow bot had managed to knock the other two bots down. Stepping back, the yellow bot stiffened in surprise when a loud _CRUNCH_ sounded underneath his foot. He lifted it up to find the smashed remains of a yellow toy car.

 _Huh, guess even robots can be clumsy too_.

:{ _Oops… I'm sorry}_ : the bot apologized, except the way he said it was weird. It came out as a bunch of beeps, whirrs, and clicks, like a computer code. Yet the odd thing was, I understood him perfectly.

Apparently, the kid with the glasses did too. "No problem, really−"

But the kids' assurance to the bot was cut short when blaster fire sent the yellow robot flying with a cry. The bot tried to get up but a foot to the head pushed him back down. When they did let him up, both of the psycho bots aimed their cannons straight at him.

I was about to shout something when the kid beat me to it. _Seriously I need to learn his name; I can't keep calling him 'kid'_.

"Leave him alone!" He suddenly shouted, causing all three bots to look in our direction, before the twins proceeded to aim their weapons at us. "Please?"

"Bad call," Jack told him.

One of the twin started walking toward us, his intent evident judging by the sound of the charging cannon aimed at us.

Looking around frantically, my eyes immediately spotted a drain pipe just big enough for us get through.

"Into the pipe! Now!" I shouted, and we all dashed for cover.

"Come on! Come on!" Jack shouted at us.

"Jack, yelling at us does not increase productivity!" I snapped at him as we ran, the pipe just ahead. One by one, each of us scrambled into to pipe. I was the last to enter. My victory was short-lived, however, when the bot pursuing us grabbed me. I could hear Jack screaming my name but it was kind of hard to hear when all I could focus on this guys' death grip on me.

"I am not. A frinking. Stress-ball. You 'effing asshole," I grunted out as his grip on me got tighter.

Grasping familiar handles at my sides, I grinned evilly though he couldn't see it because of my helmet. "Sorry, Hun'. Hate to disappoint. But I ain't no damsel-in-distress," I told him. By now a positively feral look played across my features. Whipping out identical silver short staffs—about two feet in length—in both hands, I shoved both, now sharp, staffs, straight into the wires of the robots' 'wrist'. The bot screeched in pain, immediately dropping me.

 _Great! So now, instead of being crushed to death, I get to plummet to my demise_ , I thought morbidly. _Of all the near death situations that I have survived_ …

But the pain after impact never came, nor did the oblivion that followed. Instead, I found myself clutched gently in a warm metal hand. I looked up to see the baby blue optics of the yellow bot.

:{ _It's okay, you're safe now; you can trust me._ }: he beeped to me, as he gently set me down in front of the pipe. I got off and climbed in, before turning back to look at him.

Flipping up my visor, I told him, "Thank you."

His eyes seemed to widen in shock at the words, but I had already disappeared down the pipe.

"Don't look back," Jack said taking the kid's shoulder and steering him away from the fight.

"What did we just see?" the short-stack brunette asked timidly.

"I have no idea and I'm not sure I want to find out," he replied propelling the kid forward.

I wanted to agree with him, but something told me that this was just the beginning.

* * *

Later, as the three of us walked home, I finally found out the bespectacled boys' name was Rafael Esquivel,or Raf for short. Turns out he went to the same school as us. Huh, small world. Anyway, despite the small talk being passed between the two boys, I didn't say much.

I was still slightly pissed about leaving my motorcycle; though I was grateful we survived.

The bruises forming on my side didn't help much either. Each step I took was laced with pain, and I couldn't help but curse every so often under my breath.

After we dropped little Raf off at his house, Jack and I then made our way to his place. Both of us walked in silence, each off in our own respective little worlds. Out of the corner of my eye, I could tell Jack was seriously shaken by these recent events, but there was nothing I could say that would make him feel better.

All too soon, we finally came upon the Darbys' residence.

Jack continued in mute silence to the door before realizing that I wasn't following behind him.

"Aria?" he questioned.

I just shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts as I rubbed the bridge of my nose tiredly. The adrenaline from earlier was finally beginning to fade.

"Sorry Jack just… not tonight, okay? I…" I trailed off, words caught in my throat. Clearing my throat, I tried again. "I just need time to process this. I'm gonna head back to the shop okay?"

He nodded in slight understanding.

I turned to go then remembered: "Oh, and if she asks, just tell your mom that something came up at work okay?" I requested, doing my best to manage a smile, though it probably came out pretty weak.

Just as I was about to turn to go again, he suddenly blurted out, "Are you sure you have to go?"

"Yeah, I've got stuff to do." Then I headed off into the gloom, riding helmet still tucked under my arm. "See ya Jack."

"See you Aria," he called distantly from behind me.

It was better this way. As much as I wanted to stay at Jacks' for the night, I knew it was best that I leave. He didn't need a reminder of what just happened. Jack just needed time to process all that had happened. Maybe tomorrow I'd meet up with him after school to check his mental stability.

Besides, I had to make a couple calls about some 'robot cars'.

* * *

That night I dreamt. Now I know we all typically dream, so naturally it shouldn't have been a problem. Most people just dream about stuff like homework, work in general, issues at home, tomorrows chemistry test…you name it. Sadly, I'm not most people; my dreams are weird with an extra side of crazy; instead I sometimes get these extremely vivid dreams about some kind of otherworldly war. I've been having these dreams so long now that I can't even remember a time before all this, where I didn't have any such dreams. I doubted that they were normal, since even I knew that my imagination isn't that active or creative.

Anyways, sometimes it takes place on a completely different world, where there are these colossal cities are made entirely of metal; other times it almost looks as if it's being fought here on Earth. The ironic thing, though, were the beings who fought this secret war; the combatants were these giant metal robots. Tonight was no exception.

In the dream though, I was in what appeared to be an old, underground, military base. As per my usual dreams, I was always my normal human-size. Sometimes I could even go wherever I wanted, but I usually just stayed where I was because wherever I was placed in the war, I somehow always ended up in the middle of the action. But it seemed that as of tonight, my subconscious was taking control.

As my mind walked through the dreamscape, I noticed that everything seemed to be cutting in and out, like trying to get good cellphone coverage in the middle of the wilderness. Whaddya know? The dream-world has lousy reception.

 _Three bots stood around discussing something. They all looked exceptionally familiar, especially the blue and yellow bots._

 _The tallest one, whom I guessed was the leader, stood at the monitors listening as the other two gave their report to him._

 _The female bot was explaining how the Con's would have been scrapmetal if she hadn't been distracted by the human._

" _Human?" the red and blue leader asked, surprised._

 _The yellow bot then clarified, holding up three digits as bleeped to the leader._

" _Two boys and a girl," he pondered aloud, gears turning in his head (pun not intended)._

" _I guess the third one caught us in action? I don't know!" the blue bot vented. "I was a little busy at the time."_

" _If the Decepticons are targeting us, anyone perceived as our ally, will be at grave risk," the boss bot said in serious tone._

I sat bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily as sweat glistened on my face, knife in hand.

The same feeling I felt when I was near those bots today now spread through my body again, this time giving me an ominous feeling that something huge was going to happen.

Glancing over to the nightstand, the little neon numbers read 2:34 AM. A sigh escaped my lungs. It did not seem like more sleep was going to come to me anytime soon tonight. Pulling out a small notebook and pencil from behind my pillow, I leant back and began to draw, dream still fresh in my mind.

Whatever it was that I saw, I couldn't shake the feeling that they were coming for us.

* * *

The next day, I got out of school early. Now, I know what you are thinking, but, no, I didn't skip. I never skip class as most students normally do, especially if I can help it. Let's just say for now I'm more advanced than other students. You see, my teachers and I had this agreement—though it was more of an understanding—between us. If I kept ahead in all my classes, I could get out of school halfway through the day.

All the other students hate me because of it, but I'm okay with that. As long as I have Jack, I'll be okay.

Anyways, the only reason my instructors even agree to this is because of my living situation. Or, at least, what they think is my living situation.

You see, the story I fed the teachers is that my dad was injured in an accident and now is paralyzed. My mom is struggling to pay for us with her job overseas so I do my best to pitch in and pull my own weight so I run an auto shop in town. Of course, that's a load of bullcrap, since the harsh reality is that my 'father' is a drunkard and abusive, and my 'mother' is nothing more than a narcissistic whore. Both of them are currently far, far away, probably not even missing me (the feeling is mutual, believe me). The only reason I run my auto shop is to pay for the rent of the warehouse I do work in (not to mention live in) and make a living on my own. But they don't need to know that, in fact, only a handful of people in existence know this.

At any rate, so yeah I get a sort of early release every day.

As I exited the learning facility, I glanced around at the cars parked nearby. There was no sign of them. I sighed, rubbing my eyes tiredly as my feet carried me over to my motorcycle. _Geez…I'm getting paranoid_.

By the time I got to the garage, my mind was more or less focused and ready for work.

Hours passed, people came and people went, but I still got the feeling that the day wasn't done just yet.

After another hour of patiently fixing peoples cars, I began working on my side project: restoring an old 1975 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray.

Finally, I was working underneath it when I heard the rumble of two engines nearing, one slightly higher pitched than the other.

Not even looking, I said in a firm voice, "Pietro! How many times do I have to tell you? The part I need to fix your car won't be here until Wednesday. Until then you are just going to have to sit tight and hold your panties on. And don't even think for a second that having your goons threaten me is going to work! Now GO AWAY! Or I swear–"

The sound of the engines didn't retreat, instead they just shut off. _Ugh, can't this guy take a hint?_

"H-hey AC! What's up?" said a familiar voice.

 _CLANG!_ "Ow! Goddamned Sonovabitch!" I swore as I hit my head on the undercarriage of the antique car I was working under. Still rubbing the sore spot on my head, I slid out from underneath to glare at the owner of the voice. "Oh I'm fine. Thanks for asking," I groused as the dark haired offender just snickered.

"Come on kid, let's go," said a familiar female voice, sounding impatient.

I finally took notice of the blue motorcycle and black-and-yellow Camaro. "Well hello to you too Sunshine," I grumbled, already feeling a welt already forming on my head as I picked up a grease-stained rag and cleaned my hands on it.

"The bots' need to take us to their base apparently, Ari," Jack explained, "since we saw them in action and stuff and we might be in danger–"

"Okay, let's go." I tossed on my motorcycle jacket before going over to my bike. I had retrieved both it and Jack's bicycle last night after I gave up trying to go back to sleep.

"And we need to– Wait! What?" he asked surprised.

"I just said 'okay, let's go'. So let's go." I mounted my bike, grabbing my helmet from the handle bars.

"Seriously? No arguments, no paranoid questions, sarcastic remarks, no scrutinizing looks or something?" my younger brother figure questioned skeptically.

"Come on. Let's just go. I won't even ask what the resident wild child is doing here." I pulled on my helmet and started up my bike.

* * *

—Outside of town—

We soon found ourselves outside of town, driving on the road, heading toward the mesas. The yellow muscle car drove in front with Raf, then it was the blue motorcycle with Jack and Miko, and finally me following behind. Over the roaring wind, I could hear Miko whoop excitedly as we sped toward our destination.

"Do we have to take her with us?" I grumbled, though no one heard me through my helmet. I think I heard Jack ask the female bot the same thing though I couldn't hear them very well over the rush of wind.

Our procession drove on, heading off the road and straight toward a mesa. I'm so glad these tires are meant for off-roading. I didn't even bat an eyelash as our course didn't even deter and came dangerously close to the solid rock. Jack, however practically squealed in fear, probably thinking that they were going to crash. However, when some of the rock slid away to reveal a hidden entrance, buried in the rock, he immediately calmed. I rolled my eyes at my adoptive baby brothers' narrow-minded logic. Great. My baby brother is a wimp.

 _Curiouser and curiouser_ , I mentally quoted as we entered the tunnel and the rock slid closed behind us. Finally, we came into what I assumed was the main hanger of the base, and I admit that my heart skipped a little at the sight. It looked like this place had been repurposed to play host to titans.

Two bot's were already there. A tall, orange-red and white male bot stood at the giant computer screens. Another larger, deep forest green one walked into the main room; they both watched as our little procession pulled to a stop in the middle of the room.

"Cool," little Raf gasped quietly in awe as he stepped away from the yellow. The other two seemed to echo his statement, gasping as well; I contained my awe, silently observing my new surroundings. I briefly noted how the red and white watched us with some annoyance. The green giant fully stepped into the area, watching us.

We each stepped from our respective ride gazing around in awe as the other two transformed.

"I thought there were three," the scarlet and white—kind of like a candy cane or those peppermint candies—bot stated questioningly approaching our little group.

"Haven't ya heard? Humans multiply," the blue bot said, sarcasm dripping from her tone, before walking away, in an almost disgusted manner. Now typically I try not to get involved in peoples affairs right off, but the way she said it piqued my interest. It was almost as if she…resented us, but not us in particular, just the human race in general. I wondered what we had done to make her feel that way.

I was so focused on analyzing the female bot that I almost missed what Raf was saying.

"Hi, I'm Raf," he said to Miko, holding out his hand to her.

Miko's attention, however, was riveted on the bots', the big green one to be precise. "Hi! I'm Miko! Who are you?" she asked the bot excitedly as she ran towards him.

The green metal giants face immediately resembled that of when you are caught between a rock and hard place and don't know what to do. "Bulkhead."

Miko's face lit up with excitement and began peppering him with rapid-fire questions, oblivious to his discomfort. It was kind of amusing to watch actually; Miko gasped in barely contained excitement. "Are you a car? I bet that you're a truck, a monster truck! Do you like heavy metal? How much do you weight? Ever use a wreckin' ball for a punching bag?"

Thankfully, Raf came to his rescue. "So if you guys are robots, who made you?" he asked tentatively.

Right then and there I just really wanted to face palm. I know that not everyone has my intelligence, but _seriously?_ Even the village idiot could probably tell that these guys were way too advanced to be made by humans.

Peppermint, as I decided to call the scarlet and white bot, vented exasperatedly, rolling his optics. "Puh-leaze," he griped. It kind of ticked me off of how he showed the boy no amount of empathy for his ignorance.

Suddenly, the ground began to shake and we could hear large metal footsteps approaching from behind. We all turned around, and I could feel my face paling in shock. It was the third robot from my dream! The red and blue bot was a lot taller than the other bots, and by 'a lot' I meant that the female bot barely reached a third of his height!

In the back of my shock riddled mind, I vaguely registered Miko rejoining our group.

"We are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron, also known as Autobots," he answered in a deep, rumbling, baritone voice. _Okay, so they're basically aliens. Go figure_.

Jack, ever the brave trooper, walked up and asked the same thing I was also wondering, "Why are you here?"

"To protect your planet from the Decepticons," the big bot explained.

"The jokers who tried to bump us off last night," the blue bot added helpfully in her dry tone.

Jack turns back to the boss bot. "O-kay, why are they here?"

The boss bot knelt down to our level, or as far as he could considering how large he was. "A fair question Jack. In part, they are here because our planet is uninhabitable, ravaged by centuries of civil war."

The last two words immediately caught my attention as well as everyone else's, too.

"W-why were you fighting a war?" Raf asked.

"Foremost, over control of our world's supply of Energon. The fuel and life-blood of all Autobots and Decepticons alike." Huh so that was probably what made their eyes so blue.

The large bots optics seemed to go distant as he continued explaining to us. "The combat was fierce, and endured for centuries. In the beginning, I fought alongside one whom I considered a brother. But in war, ideals can be corrupted, and it was thus that Megatron lost his way." I could see centuries of hardship were taking a heavy toll on him. I almost felt sorry for him and the others then; I knew what losing a home felt like too.

Miko, on the other hand, yawned and played with her ponytail. "Is there gonna be a quiz?" she asked rather rudely.

That did it. I came up behind her and smacked her on the back of her head, _hard_.

"You ungrateful, spoiled little cow," I hissed. "They've lost their home, probably even their families and loved ones, everything. And you're making fun of that?" My voice was now dangerously low. "Do you know how that even feels? How would you feel if everything was ripped away from you, you snot-nosed brat?" I stopped. I was treading dangerously too close to home now. Eventually , I just sighed and shook my head irritably knowing that her type would never get it; I walked back to my original spot. I could feel everyone staring at me, but I just ignored them. I wasn't doing it for them.

Thankfully, Jack understood me well enough not to question the outburst, instead opting to focus on the topic at hand. "S-so what does Megatron, or any of this, have to do with us?" he asked, but I had a feeling I knew the answer to that already, and it wasn't good.

"Megatron has not been seen nor heard from in some time, but if his return is imminent, as I fear, it could be catastrophic," the boss bot replied grimly. _Yep, knew it_.

"I was afraid you were gonna say that," I mumbled as I suddenly got a bad feeling in the back of my mind. Knowing my luck, the big guy had just jinxed it for us all.


	2. A Dislike of Making Friends

Hey, it's your truly awesome gal again! I just want address some things before jumping to this new chapter created by yours truly.

Item number one: First, I just want to say thanks to those who favorited and followed. It means a lot to me.

Second: Please, please, please _review_! I want to know how well, or bad, I did. I don't ask for much. Just tell me what you think. I accept any and all complements and allow constructive criticisms. Aside from that... official flame recieving hours are on Tuesdays and Thursdays between 6:00 AM and 5:00 PM.

Finally, sorry if this seems a little dry. The Darkness Rising mini series is a little dry. More of an intro really. But it will get better. I promise.

 **Disclaimer** : I do not in any way, shape or form own Transformers and other quoted sources.

* * *

 **Chapter 2: A Dislike of Making Friends**

"And since you now know of our existence, I fear that as of last night the Decepticons know of yours," the red and blue bot explained to us in a grave tone.

"Got it. If we spot any strange vehicles, call 911," Jack stated nervously. "Can we go now?" I didn't need to look at him to practically see the 'Warning! Danger!' signs flashing over his head, to tell that he was on information overload and obviously not thinking straight.

Doing my best to comfort him, I placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. "Jack, I don't think that's gonna work. I mean, who would believe us? And even if they did, how would they deal with it? Think about it," I whispered to him, squeezing his shoulder one last time in what I hoped was a comforting manner, before letting my hand fall. Comforting someone else is not my specialty, in case you hadn't noticed.

Miko, of course, being the totally dense and insensitive one, turned on him. "Are you insane?! I'm living a dream here in Bots-wana, and I will not allow you, that crazy emo tramp, or anyone else to shatter it!" she said gesturing wildly, and a bit of her native Japanese accent tingeing her voice as she became more upset.

I did not react whatsoever to her jibe at me. To be quite frank, it was one of the weaker ones I had heard; I had heard a lot better ones than 'crazy emo tramp'.

As for the rest of what she said…if looks could kill, Miko would have been incinerated on the spot; but contradictory to the venomous glare I shot her, I had to, albeit grudgingly, agree with her, though for different reasons.

Either way, the big guy seemed to agree with our opinion too. "It is best that you four remain under our watch. At least until we can determine our enemies' intentions." As he said it, I had to admire how well he handled the situation. That was true leadership right there.

"Optimus," Peppermint hissed; so that was the boss bot's name. "With all due respect, the human children are in as much danger here as anywhere!"

"Children?!" Jack repeated, sounding affronted, as if he couldn't believe that someone had called him a child.

"They have no protective shell! If they get underfoot they will go _Squish_ ," he said almost disgustedly, stomping his foot to prove his point.

I rolled my eyes. "Nice to know you care so much Peppermint," I grumbled lowly, allowing a small frown to grace my features. Honestly, we weren't _that_ clumsy and unless they did it intentionally, I highly doubted that they really had a chance of stepping on us. "Geez, what crawled up his tailpipe and died?" Then I realized how loud it actually came out. _Oops_. Everyone resolved into varying degrees of poorly concealed snickering and laughter, except the bot who I had just insulted. Said bot just glared at me, looking a tad peeved. _Oh well, I was always better at making enemies than friends_.

Optimus even seemed slightly amused too though he hid it well as he addressed the cranky bots' concerns. "Then for the time being, Ratchet, we must watch where we step."

 _Ratchet, eh?_ Cue internal evil smirk. Oh I was going to get a lot of mileage out of this one. He seemed more like a Hatchet if you ask me.

Suddenly, an alarm went off, green lights flashing; the kids all flinched at the unexpected sound, though I remained passive.

"What's that?" Someone yelled over the din. I think it may have been Jack.

The yellow bot—or Yellow Jacket, as I silently nicknamed him—buzzed and blipped a response. :{ _That's the proximity sensor; it means someone's up on top of the base_ }: he said but gained only confused looks from Jack and Miko. _Huh, guess they can't understand him_. Thankfully, Raf took pity on them and translated, though I wasn't really listening to them.

"It's Agent Fowler," Hatch-er, Ratchet informed us, a real-time image of a copter landing on top of the base being displayed on the screen. Was it just me or did he seem even less happy about that?

Jack looked confused. "I-I thought we were the only humans who know about you guys."

"Special Agent Fowler is our designated liaison to the outside world, as he tends to visit only when there are…issues," Optimus explained wearily as if he could already hear the oncoming lecture. I guess I would be too if some tiny being only came by to complain. "It may be best if you did not meet him at this time."

We all took the hint and went to take cover behind a nearby corner so that we could at least listen in. We didn't have to wait long though.

The sound of the elevator doors opening heralded the entrance of the mysterious Agent Fowler. "Seven wrecks, thirty-four fender benders, a three hour traffic jam, and on a particular note–numerous reports of a speeding motorcycle of unknown make and a black-and-yellow custom muscle car."

 _Interesting_ , I thought. I was a bit surprised to hear that our little adventure on the highway the other day had garnered enough attention to reach governments ears. I mean Jasper is a pretty small town. Of course, he hadn't even mentioned sightings of me on my bike, so I was going to hope that that was a good sign.

Jack risked a peek around the corner we were hiding behind, near the feet of the bots in question. I quickly pulled him back though, clasping a hand over his mouth to muffle any protest he had. But as I did, I caught a brief glimpse of Agent Fowler.

From what I saw, he was an African American man with even darker, close-cropped hair, (military style I think). The man looked to be about just an inch or two taller than Jack, wearing just your average, two-piece, grey work suit, complete with a white dress shirt, striped tie and loafers. His dark-brown eyes were hard, and his face seemed permanently twisted in a bad-tempered scowl. Just your typical government agent turned alien robot baby-sitter.

"So anything you care to get off your tin chest, Prime?" he prompted venomously, reminding me slightly of those stupid Chihuahua's that yap at anything they see. _Well he certainly didn't waste time getting to the point_. _And no wonder he was called Fowler; he seems pretty foul to me_.

"We have the situation under control, Agent Fowler," the boss bot replied calmly, giving no inclination that he was offended by the agents tone. Good for him because I am sure I would have done something drastic.

"They're back, aren't they?" he said bluntly, phrasing the question as more of a statement. I guess he wasn't as stupid as I initially thought he sounded after all.

Boss bot didn't even falter. "If you are referring to the Decepticons, I have doubts that they ever left. Your planet is much too valuable," he explained.

"Then it's time to wake up the Pentagon," Agent Fowler declared. _Never mind, I take back my previous statement; good God, this guy is an idiot!_

"Hear me, Agent Fowler," Optimus said with an authoritative voice that said 'I will not take no for an answer.' "We are your best, possibly your only, defense against the Decepticon threat."

"Says you," the agent of foulness grumped. Man did I want to smack some sense into this guy.

Apparently, so did Bulkhead. "Hey, fleshy! Did anyone get splattered on that freeway? Team Prime knows when to use force"—the sound of something being forcefully pulled up and and electric current being severed could be heard—"And how much to use." We could all hear the tell-tale sounds of something metal being warped and crushed under tremendous force.

"Bulkhead, I needed that!" Ratchet cried in irritation.

"Enough!" Optimus boomed. "Military involvement will only result in catastrophe. Perhaps you can condone widespread human casualties, Agent Fowler. I, however, cannot." As I surveyed him from my spot, I had to admit that he had an excellent poker face.

"Then do us both a favor and handle this, Prime. _Under_ the radar"—the elevator doors swooshed open—"Or I will." He let the threat hang in the air as the doors shut behind him.

As soon as we were certain he was gone, the four of us stepped out of hiding, making a beeline for the platform that Fowler had previously been occupying.

"Pretty big bearings, for a human," Bulkhead commented. I didn't know what 'bearings' were but I understood him well enough.

"A little too big if you ask me," I grumbled audibly enough for Jack to hear and elbow me in the ribs.

"Agent Fowler is concerned for his world, Bulkhead, as he should be," Optimus defended.

"Yeah but he didn't need to be so rude about it," I spoke up. "He was deliberately trying to provoke you into an argument if you hadn't noticed. An _argument_ Prime not, some fun, happy-go-lucky, hippy, peace-loving debate. And trust me there is a difference. If it was a debate, the least he could have done was actually listen and respect what you had to say. But the only thing I think he respects about you is the potential you have to squish him flat. He was deliberately trying to pick a fight with you guys." Then I paused. "That or he's got a major superiority complex."

A couple people, and bots, smiled at that. Snarkcasam, gotta love it.

"Honestly, do you enjoy putting other people down or something?" Ratchet grumbled.

I turned to him, smiling wickedly. "No, but I do enjoy kicking others ego's to the curb when their heads desperately need deflating." I could have sworn that this time I heard some snickers.

"Is that so?"

"Yep. You got a problem with that Peppermint?"

"My name it not Peppermint," he growled.

"It isn't?" I said innocently, pulling a stupid-blonde and rubbing my eyes for show. "Oops sorry, must be the paint job."

He was about to retort when a blip from the monitors drew his attention; he frowned even more, if it was possible. "Blasted Earth tech! Cliffjumpers' signal popped back online," Ratchet grumbled though I could hear an underlying tone of genuine hope in his voice, subtle as it may have been.

Miko, being the nosy chit she was, asked, "Who's Cliffjumper?" No one replied; they just ignored her. Guess these bots learned quickly on how to deal with her. Kudos to them.

"How is that possible?" Optimus immediately asked sounding almost slightly surprised.

"It isn't." Though the words were spoken with firmness, you could practically feel the unspoken 'or at least it should be' left hanging in the air. "Another bug! The system is chock-full of them." The tone the red and white bot used was easily recognizable; he did not want to get everyone's hopes up only for it to be a false alarm. _Well what do you know, he does have a heart—or whatever alien robots have—after all_.

"If there's any chance Cliff's alive—" the female bot began looking to her leader. Hope could be seen filling her entire being. Whoever this Cliffjumper character was, he—I'm guessing it's a he—seemed to mean a lot to her. It made me wonder what this bot really was to her. A sibling? A lover? Maybe a close friend?

Thankfully, Optimus was already way ahead of her. "Ratchet, prepare sickbay. We may need it." Then a metal mouth guard slid closed over the lower half of his face; it looked pretty bad ass.

"Hey! What can we do?" It was Miko, of course.

Optimus seemed to consider it for a moment. "Remain with Ratchet."

Both parties groaned, one in disappointment the other in disgusted annoyance.

To the side, a tunnel of rings flared to life before a green glowing vortex of energy spiraled into existence at the end of it.

"Autobots: Roll Out!" Optimus commanded in full leader-mode. Then they all charged in, transforming as they went, and disappearing through the…portal, I guess.

"What just happened?" Jack asked, eyes bugging a little.

"I transported them to the designated coordinates via the Ground Bridge," the medic said offhandedly.

"W-what's a 'Ground Bridge'?" little Raf asked sounding intrigued. I had to admit the idea sounded interesting to say the least.

"Ugh. A scaled down version of Space Bridge technology." He explained it like he was talking to complete simpletons; as he watched the monitors. Honestly, it wasn't _our_ fault that their technology was light-years ahead of ours. "Since we don't currently possess the means or Energon required for intergalactic travel…"

"You're stuck here. On Earth," Jack summed up.

"With the likes of you, yes." _Geez, way to make it sound like being stuck on Earth was pure torture_. If this guy was the medic of the team, he had the bedside manner of a school of piranhas. "But I constructed the Ground Bridge to enable travel from here to anywhere on your planet." He sounded so proud, it was like he wanted a medal or something for that. _Sorry doc bot, fresh out of ribbons, I must have forgotten them at home_.

I was about to ask if other sources here on Earth would work for it other than this 'Energon' stuff, but Raf spoke up again before I could. "Wow! Does it work for humans?"

"Naturally."

"You mean I could just shoot on over and visit my parents in Tokyo?" Miko inquired.

 _Perfect_ , I thought. _Maybe then we can send Miko over and get some peace and quiet for a change_.

"Within moments. In fact, allow me to send you there immediately, all four of you." Sheesh, if this was him being nice, I did not want to see him pissed off. Of course, I think Optimus would probably frown upon 'accidentally' squishing a human, no matter how annoying.

"Watch it, Ratchet." A snort escaped me at Mikos' weak attempt to back talk the bot. Maybe we could keep her around for entertainment purposes. Of course it would probably get monotonous after a bit.

Sadly, the silence did not last long, as you will almost never find the words 'quiet' and 'teenager' together in the same sentence.

"What is this anyway?" Miko asked, pointing at some kind of control server.

"Broken, don't touch it," Ratchet warned. At the word 'broken', my interest was immediately piqued; it's a mechanic thing.

Miko went to touch something else.

"Don't touch that either," he said without turning around.

"So, anything here we can touch?" Jack asked dryly and I couldn't help but smirk. _He's definitely been hanging out with me too much_.

Thankfully, before Ratchet could answer, several dozen error windows popped up on the monitor.

"How come you guys are using _human_ computers?" Rafael asked curiously.

"It certainly isn't by choice. It was handed down from the previous tenants when we inherited this former missile silo. I make modifications as I see fit." As he tried to go fix it, more error messages popped up; Ratchet vented in frustration.

"I think I can fix that," Raf told him hooking his laptop up to the terminal.

 _And I can fix something of my own_ , I thought as I grabbed some tools from the kit on my bike and set to work on the object, that I assumed Bulkhead had previously mangled, still listening to the conversation going on around me. I figured it was better to start on something small since I don't think he would really want me hanging around to finish my work because once I start a project, I usually tend to finish it. Besides, I needed something to keep me busy and effectively prevent me attempting to mouth off even more.

" _Really?_ " Hatchet said mockingly. "You know this is _complex technology_ , don't you? I mean it isn't a child's toy."

Raf didn't even falter, just typed a couple things into his keyboard. "Now try."

Probably just to humor the boy, the medic looked back at the screen and got a slight shock of his own. All the red became green and the 'X''s changed to check marks before the windows closed, the screens displaying their previous content. Ratchet looked back at the boy incredulously. And I had to admit, the kid was pretty impressive, especially at his age.

Shaking my head, I carefully set to work on the project before me, tuning everything out to background noise. Trust me, sleep through an aerial bombing or two, and noise isn't an issue.

-{ **Ratchet! Bridge us back! Use the arrival coordinates…Now!** }- Came Optimus' voice over their communication link.

Immediately, Ratchet did as ordered, opening the Ground Bridge swiftly, just in time for the other bots to come speeding through, and a blue explosion cloud billowing after them, right on their tail; just as quickly, Ratchet closed it as soon as everyone was through. Optimus, being the one to bring up the rear though, was thrown forcefully into the air from the resounding force of the blast, causing him to do a spectacular flip to allow him to land safely; the others gaped and gasped in awe, and I felt the corners of my lips twitch slightly. The boss bot had some moves.

"Cutting it a bit close," Ratchet stated, blunt as ever. "How about Cliffjumper?"

They all looked determinedly away, postures giving the medic his answer.

But, Miko, being the resident village idiot she was, immediately started peppering them with questions, not taking the time to notice their less than happy expressions; she had absolutely no tact. "What was that explosion? Was there a fight? Can I come with next time?"

This did not sit well with Arcee. "Look—" she growled, glaring at the girls' sheer and utter insensitivity.

But before she could say anymore, Jack jumped in. "Hey, hey, Miko, let's go see what the bots…hide in their sock drawers." If the mood wasn't so low, I would have laughed at the sheer stupidity of the statement. We seriously needed to work on Jack's placating skills. Thankfully, though, the words served their intended purpose.

"Seriously?" Miko deadpanned, but allowed herself to be pulled away.

When she was finally safely away from the ticked bot, all the other bots then turned their attention to the blue and pink bot, looking for answers. "Arcee, what did you see?" Optimus asked.

Arcee hugged herself closely, probably reliving the moment. When she spoke, her once proud voice came out shaky, horrified even. "Not Cliff. At least, not anymore. He was mutated, butchered, like something from those 'Con experiments during the war." Her knee joints started to give way underneath her, probably close to fainting, or as close to fainting as bots can get.

:{ _Arcee! Are you alright? Do you need help?_ }: Yellow Jacket asked worriedly, going over to help her.

"I'm fine! Just dizzy," she intoned firmly, in her 'I-can-do-it-myself' voice. She was definitely not the damsel I distress type, more like the do-it-yourself self-saving damsel.

We all watched them quietly from the platform.

"Robots who get dizzy?" Miko questioned skeptically, as if she didn't believe that they actually have weakness.

"Robots with emotions," Raf input, making a fist as if he wanted to battle the Decepticons himself to protect them.

"Robots who can die." Jack sounded more like he had been shown some kind of rather shocking, yet enlightening, piece of info.

I rolled my eyes. They were just now realizing this?

Arcee was now sitting down as she allowed Ratchet to run some kind of scanner over her. "What is this?" he wondered aloud as the ray flashed red over a spot on her left hand. From what I could see, it was some weird purple substance that seemed to be almost smoldering; whatever it was, it seriously was creeping me out, making me want to grab for my short staffs.

"Don't know. Cliff was covered in it. Leaking it," she explained tiredly but still sounding pretty shaky.

Ratchet carefully scraped it off of her with a tool. "Go take a decontamination bath. Now!" His tone left no room for argument, and so Arcee allowed Yellow Jacket—Seriously, I needed to learn his name—to escort her to do just that.

Jack glanced at his cellphone, and nearly swore when he saw the time and the lack of cellular connection. "O-Optimus. I-I hate to bug, but–no bars," he said, showing his cheapie little flip phone to the large red-and-blue bot.

"A security precaution. The silo walls isolate all radio waves," he explained calmly.

"Well, if I don't call my mom like now, I'm pretty sure cops will be out looking for me."

Optimus leaned in a little, looking at each of us firmly. "Have you broken a law?" he questioned.

"A curfew; it's after ten PM," Jack explained.

"I better get home too, or I'll be grounded for a year," Raf said, sounding a little panicked.

I sighed when I realized what was coming. In the famous words of Rumpelstiltskin, "Everything _always_ comes with a price, dearie."

 _Just wait for it_ , I thought _._

"Earth customs; I hadn't considered," he mused, in his deep baritone voice.

 _Here it comes. Annnddd_ …

Optimus: "But—"

"Called it," I said quietly under my breath.

"—the issue of your safety still remains." He looked over to the forest green bot. "Bulkhead, accompany Miko home."

"Awesome! My host parents will freak!" She gasped excitedly, getting up in Jack's face. Did she not know the meaning of boundaries?

Then as if to contradict her, Optimus added, "And maintain covert surveillance in vehicle form."

"Curbside duty, got it," Bulkhead acknowledged, making it _very_ clear for Miko; she whined sadly.

"Bumblebee!" He addressed the yellow bot—finally I had a name to a face—"You'll watch over Raf." No surprise there, those two seemed to hit it off pretty well, that and they both seemed like the youngest of the bunch.

"Ratchet—"

"Busy!" the medic immediately cut him off. Then Arcee, who had apparently just finished with her bath, walked out behind the med-bot, and just in time.

"Arcee. You'll accompany Jack." Jack seemed a little surprised.

"Ooh, still dizzy," she faked—badly—at being sick, probably hoping to get out of the incoming 'babysitting' duty.

"You're fine! Says your physician," Ratchet called not even looking.

Arcee just sighed and shrugged, probably knowing from the get-go that it was pointless.

"Hey Jack, if your mom asks, you can just tell her you were hanging out with me and lost track of time. 'Kay?" I told him from my spot fixing Ratchets thingamajig, not really looking up.

Of course, that's when Hatchet decided to notice what I was actually doing.

"What are you doing?!" He cried.

Even at his outburst, I still did not look up from my project. "What does it look like Peppermint? I'm nearly done anyway, so don't get your granny nickers in a twist."

"Do you have any idea what that _does_?"

"Not really, but more or less," I answered truthfully, waving my screwdriver in a nonchalant so-so gesture.

"Exactly, which is why you should not be touching it!"

He went to grab for it, but I smacked his incoming digits with the handle of the screwdriver. "Uh-uh. No touchie."

He withdrew his fingers after the first initial rap, then foolishly attempted to make another pass. He did not make it that far. _CLANG!_ Immediately, Ratchet recoiled, rubbing his forehead. There was now a nice, wrench-sized dent on the side of his head.

"Ow! What the frag was that for!" he growled massaging the abused area and glaring daggers at me.

"I warned you to back off Hatchet! It's your own damn fault for not listening," I snarled.

"My name is not Hatchet!" He roared back.

"Yeah?! Well get over it Sunshine!"

Before either of us could start trading anymore volleys, or throwing anymore tools, Optimus stepped in.

"Aria, should you not be getting home by now, before your creators worry too much?" It took me a bit to understand what he meant by 'creators.' Of course, when I did, I mentally cursed. Damn, he had me there. Otherwise, all my carefully laid latticework of lies would come crashing down. I could tell him but…well, let's just say I have trust issues for now and leave it at that.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," I relented finally. "Here's your doohickey back Hatchet. All you need to do is reattach the claw part of it and connect some wires." I placed it near the monitor, out of the way of possible large-footed stampedes. Snatching up the rest of my tools, I put them back into their designated pouch on my bike. I was paranoid to the point of OCD about where my stuff went, that way I could tell when someone went through my stuff. Like I said, paranoid.

"So who's gonna be unfortunate enough be my babysitter?" I probed, already having an idea of who it was going to be.

"I will of course," Optimus said.

 _Of course_.

Swinging a leg over the side of my motorcycle with a grace resulting from years of practice, I jammed my helmet onto my head. I looked back over to my new babysitter as he watched me. "Try to keep up," I said before slapping the visor down, revving the engine, and taking off.

A few seconds later, light from some headlights behind me told me that he was following. Reluctantly, I led the way to my garage. The paranoid part of my brain wanted me to take a route through some narrow alleys that I knew he couldn't fit him, but I knew that Yellow-Jacket and Sunshine had probably already told him the location of my garage, so it wouldn't do me much good.

"This is your housing unit?" He asked when we pulled up.

"Might as well be," I said, going over and unlocking the door. "I spent most of my time here."

"What of your creators?" he questioned.

"Mom's overseas, and Dad already knows that I'm here. I texted him earlier saying that I was staying over to work on a project," I lied smoothly. A lot of the time, lying is one of my best friends, but as some old fogey once said 'lying is like a double-bladed knife'. If you aren't careful enough, the whole thing could come crashing down in your face. "Besides Optimus, I am technically considered a legal adult. I'll be fine."

Right before closing the door, I paused, a thought hitting me. "And Optimus, for what it's worth, I'm sorry about Cliffjumper and all your other friends. Despite what you may believe, it wasn't your fault." I wasn't an idiot. I could see the weight on his shoulders. One single death had not done that to him. It was one of the trials of being a leader; you sometimes lost men in the line of duty. And being their leader, their lives were your responsibility, so therefore, when one of them dies, you can't help but blame yourself.

"Now good night, Optimus," I bade him before quickly closing the door.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

—Next day—

One thing to know about me: I am determined. Once I set my mind to something, there is very little that deter me. It's a lot like trying to stop a freight train with your bare hands. Thankfully, my night was not spent uselessly on missing out several hours of much needed beauty sleep to do some projects.

Now I had a small arsenal that theoretically should take down, or at least incapacitate, a couple Cybertronians if the need arose, whether they be Decepticon or Autobot.

I just hoped it worked when I needed to.

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad?

Any questions? Concerns? Gripes?

Review. Please and thank you.


	3. I am Surrounded by Idiots

Hello dearies! Guess Who!

Anyway, to my first order of buisness: my reviews. Thank you so much to any and all who reviewed, favorited, and followed! You have no idea how much I've been dying to see what people think. Seriously, I was practically jumping around and screaming in joy when I read them. Of course, my mom was looking at me like I was a loony toon, which I probably was.

Also, I have another funny story to tell. So my mom doesn't know that I was dating AwkwardChild and have been for awhile. I was kinda fearful of her reaction. But I told him that I would tell her eventually. So, as I was heading out the door yesterday, on my way to dinner with my boyfriend, I said randomly out-of-the-blue, "Oh and by the way, me and AwkwardChild are dating," and then I closed the door and practically ran all the way to where my boyfriend and I were meeting, having the song 'You Dropped A Bomb On Me' by the Gap Band running through my head the entire time. When I got back...Well I'll tell you later.

Nextly, I think after the Darkness Rising Mini Series, I will try to work out a regular updating schedule. I know it gets frustrating for you lot.

Finally, the disclaimer.

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own Transformers Prime in any way, shape, or form or even the Burn Notice and other assorted quotes in here. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 3: I am Surrounded by Idiots**

 _Purple fire covered the edges of my vision at first, covering everything in sight. Then I was flying. Looking down I saw a dark canyon. I could sense a malevolent power coming from it. Dread gripped my soul and in my minds' eye, I saw a glowing pair of purple eyes, glaring at me._

 _The dream fast forwarded, shifting in a whirl of smoky images. Hundreds of lifeless bots, all with the same purple glowing eyes headed toward me. I could feel their dark intent and hatred directed towards me. A dark presence drove them, compelling their actions like a puppeteer in play. Whatever dark power fueled them did not agree with me, slowly sapping my strength, weakening me._

 _They all converged on me and I could do nothing. I looked up at them, wanting to fight back. If I was going to die, I was going to go down fighting. Just as they were about to kill me, their images were blown away like dust on the wind._

 _Everything was dark but I heard the sound of an awesome explosion._

 _Then I felt a different presence, this one more benevolent. It filled me with hope and security; I imagined beautiful blue eyes staring kindly at me._

 _The two presences were so alike yet complete opposites._

 _Then they too faded becoming two stars on opposite sides of the scales._

 _Then a third presence, much like the second, though not as powerful, entered, standing behind me. But this one was still different. I could sense so many emotions from him though I could not see who it was; many of the emotions were foreign to me, but oddly enough, I felt pulled toward him._

 _I was about to ask who was there but then I was falling through darkness, and I knew no more_.

I sat bolt upright, gun aimed at the door. My grey orbs darted around, looking for the threat. Blinking, I lowered it when I realized that there was nothing there. It was nothing more than a really intense dream. Looking around, I glanced at the clock on the desk I had fallen asleep at. It read 4:37 AM. Carefully counting back the hours, I realized that I had been asleep for about three hours.

Rubbing my eyes tiredly, I got up, turned the light at my desk off and headed to bed thinking: _write, sleep, then shower_.

* * *

—Later—

When you're preparing equipment for an unknown tactical situation, more is better. You need a range of weaponry of different sizes and calibers so that you're ready for anything from close combat to a full on gun battle. Most important of all is body armor. A good lightweight Kevlar vest can be concealed under clothing and will stop stabbing attacks, slashing attacks and almost any round short of a 50-cal. It doesn't guarantee you'll survive a surprise attack but it's a hell of a lot better than nothing.

So today, my outfit consisted of a white t-shirt underneath a gunmetal grey Kevlar aegis, cleverly disguised as a vest, covered by an equally deceiving black, leather motorcycle jacket. Matching padded Kevlar pants and a pair of lightweight steel-toed, combat boots completed the punk look. And finally, my signature pair of baton holsters, complete with the simple-looking metal rods, strapped on either side of me. I never left home without them if I could help it. Altogether, I'm sure I looked pretty bad-ass; I only ever wore this outfit if I had the feeling that I was going into a fire fight.

And don't ask how I got my hands on that much Kevlar. It's a trade secret.

Anyway, as I was just finishing tying up my hair in a military-style bun, a loud horn blast outside drew my attention.

 _Optimus_.

He was here. Quickly tying up the last few ends, I grabbed my keys and backpack and bolted for the door. But before I even opened the door, I paused, looking back.

On the hook where I usually hang my keys, hung a pair of dog tags. _Should I?_ I went to go turn the handle again but hesitated once more. _Oh to heck with it_. I dashed back and grabbed them anyway, pulling the chain over my head and hiding them underneath my shirt. And with that, I ran out the door.

As predicted, Optimus was parked outside. It was a little early for a Saturday morning, but I was used to waking up early even with just a little sleep.

"Morning, Prime. How are you?" I greeted climbing into his cab. Hopefully he didn't notice the amount of extra 'weight' I'd suspiciously gained over night.

"Good morning, Miss Slade-Cage. I am well, thank you. And please, call me Optimus," he replied from the radio. I jumped slightly when a seatbelt slid over me. I needed to get used to that.

"Only if you please call me Aria," I replied, not unkindly. For some reason, I was finding it difficult to be rude to this guy. "Are we going to base?"

"Yes. I hope you do not mind. The others said that they were going to spend some time with their charges before going to base, but I wish to check on Ratchets' progress," he said, slowly pulling away from my shop.

"It's alright. I look forward to annoying Hatchet anyway." It felt odd having such a normal conversation with a giant robotic being, but stranger things have happened I suppose.

A deep rumbling sound echoed from the radio, shaking the entire truck, and I realized that Optimus was actually laughing. "I would refrain from calling him that in his presence if I were you."

I just rolled my grey orbs, huffing. "I'm not scared of him, if that's what you think. He could squish me flat for all I care and I still won't give a damn."

"It is against our code for us to harm humans like yourself, so why would…?" he began, confused.

"'Accidents' do happen Optimus," I couldn't help but gruffly reply.

He fell silent for a moment. "You do not trust us very much, do you?"

I gave a very unladylike snort, staring out the window. "You got that right."

"Why?" he asked suddenly.

Immediately, my face became devoid of emotion. Old memories began to try to surface in the recesses of my mind, reminders of old pain throbbing all over my body, but I blinked, shaking them away, ignoring the dull ache they left behind. "I have a hard time trusting people, or anyone for that matter, and let's leave it at that."

We both lapsed into silence. Post operation paranoia isn't something you can control. It's with you always: when you're working, when you're relaxing—even sleep is not an escape—you just can't turn it off.

"Optimus, after this is over, what will happen to us?" I asked out of the blue.

He remained silent, thinking.

"You know the others are going to get attached to each other eventually, if they haven't already," I put out there nonchalantly. "Stuff like this usually brings people together."

"And what of yourself?" Optimus shot back.

"Emotional attachment isn't the issue for me. The others however…" I paused, trying to think of the right words. "The others will eventually have a hard time parting."

"I see," was all he said.

For the rest of the ride, we drove on in silence.

* * *

We were the first to arrive back to base. And we made it just in time. Ratchet was being attacked by this spider-bot…thing.

"Aria, I am going to have to transform quickly. Brace yourself," he commanded.

"Wait what about—" I never got to finish the sentence as gears, wires and other bits shifted all around me. To say it was a disorienting experience was an understatement. Next thing I knew, I was sent tumbling onto a warm metal surface; a shot was fired off. Dazedly, I blinked, my vision coming back into focus right as Optimus flattened the thing underneath his foot; I sincerely hoped that that would never be me.

"And stay broken," Ratchet told the newly made metal pancake. A smirk made its way to my features; he had as much ferocity as a cranky kitten. "Now, what could have caused that?!" he asked, turning to his leader.

"I have a grave suspicion, Ratchet, Dark Energon." Just the very mention of the name 'Dark Energon' was enough to send shivers down my spine. I almost jumped in surprise when I felt a large metal finger stroke my back almost comfortingly. While I'm not much for physical contact, it actually felt…Whoa, Aria! Focus!

Careful not to jostle me, Optimus carefully picked up the remnants of Ratchets broken tool, going over and gingerly depositing it into a container. "If the residue Arcee found on Cliffjumper brought your broken equipment to life, it would stand to reason that the very same substance brought Cliffjumper back from the dead." His tone was grave and that was enough to tell me that

Instead of completely denying it like I thought he would, Ratchet looked thoughtful. "That would account for his life signal inexplicably coming back online. But…" he mused, trailing off before shaking himself. "Dark Energon? It's so scarce as to be virtually non-existent. What would it be doing on Earth?"

Connecting the dots, I realized that there was only one way.

"Wait Optimus, please tell me you're not saying…" I practically begged, looking him in his eyes.

Sadly, he did not deny what I was implying, only sending a slight nod of confirmation in my direction. "It was transported," Optimus explained. "By Megatron."

"Shit," I hissed, my mind working at a feverish pace, putting the pieces together.

"For what purpose?" Ratchet asked still not catching on.

"To conquer this planet, by raising an army of the undead."

"And that's totally not cliché," I grumbled sarcastically under my breath. "I thought that the idea of a zombie apocalypse was bad, but _no_ , it just had to get a lot worse by adding giant dead metal aliens into the equation. They better not have a Costco card too otherwise I'm screwed." Hopefully kill shots to the head still worked.

Ratchet on the other hand was less than concerned, even chortling slightly as he said, "Well Megatron would need to break quite a few toaster ovens. I mean, where on this world would he find that many Cybertronian dead?"

Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose. _Ask and you shall receive Hatchet_.

Of course, before more could be said, the others drove in, laughing and smiling.

Optimus looked to me; I made a zipping motion with my fingers and he nodded gratefully before setting me down on the platform and going over to his troops. "Autobots prepare to—" he stopped, looking down at the kids.

"Roll out?" Arcee suggested in her usual dry tone.

"Remain here," he corrected, before turning to his medic. "Ratchet, you'll come with me."

A slight grunt was all he got as acknowledgement; the Prime turned back to the female bot at the look on her face.

"Arcee, we'll be outside of communications range for some time so I'm putting you in charge."

"Dude, you're biggest. You should be the boss," Miko told Bulkhead; I rolled my eyes. She was seriously giving my eyes a cardio workout.

"Um, he never picks me," Bulkhead admitted a little uncomfortably. No offence to Bulkhead, but I could see the logic behind the play; biggest wasn't always the best. He seemed more the follower-type, shoot first and ask questions later.

Arcee stepped forward, a frown on her face. "Optimus, with all due respect," she hissed, "playing bodyguard is one thing. Baby-sitting's another. Besides, Ratchet hasn't been in the field since the war."

I snorted a laugh as Ratchet called over, "My pistons may be rusty, but my hearing is sharp as ever!"

"For the moment, it's only reconnaissance," the Prime said though there was something else in his voice.

The fem-bot seemed to have caught that too. "Then why do I hear an edge in your voice?" she pushed.

"Arcee, much has changed in the last twenty-four hours, and we all need to adapt," he said with a finality to his tone. He turned away; the audience with the Prime was over. "Ratchet! Bridge us out!" The medic did as told, the Ground Bridge spiraling into life, and with that the two disappeared to Megatron knows where.

"OK, Chief. So, uh, what's on the activities list?" Jack asked hopefully.

Arcee just rolled her eyes. "I'm going on patrol."

"But Optimus told us to stay," Bulkhead argued.

She rounded on him. "When you are in charge you can call the shots," she told the forest green giant before turning to Bumblebee. "'Bee! With me!"

:{ _Oh, alright._ }: the yellow bot buzzed.

"Bulkhead, you're in charge." And with that they sped out of base.

The remaining bot looked nervous before looking at the rest of us with an awkward smile. "So, uh, what's on the activities list?"

A screeching filled the air and we all looked to Miko, who was hooking up a guitar to a large speaker. Where did the speaker come from? "How about…band practice?" She suggested.

"How about not?" I said but she ignored me. I was really starting to get pissed off with this girl. It would be a wonder if I didn't shoot her before the week was over.

"But we're not a band," Raf told her.

"Why so antisocial?" she mocked before changing tactics. "Come on, Raf. You play anything?"

"Um, keyboard?" he said, probably nervous of what she would do if he said no.

"Laptops and samples, good! Jack?"

I sniggered silently, knowing what was coming.

"I...sometimes mess around on the harmonica," he admitted, running a hand through his hair in a nervous habit.

Miko looked offended. "Do I look like I do country? Just– cover yourself in fake blood and jump around screaming." She turned away before he could argue.

"Bulkhead: Percussion! We'll go for big, industrial sound."

"What about Aria?" Raf asked.

"Leave me out of this," I said holding up my hands in a warding off gesture.

Jack narrowed his eyes at me fixing me with a look that said 'if I have to suffer through this torture, so do you.' I just stuck my tongue out at him childishly.

"She can be security," the Japanese girl said offhandedly. "DIY, we're a band! You just gotta learn the songs. This one's a ballad, 'My Fist, Your Face'."

She started to jam out and I was seriously debating whether I could get away with either rigging up an EMP to Mikos' guitar and speaker or stealing her guitar and hiding it far, far away. Either option was pretty tempting.

Then of course, life decided that I wasn't going deaf fast enough. The proximity sensor went off just as Miko was really starting to get into a groove.

Bulkhead tried to get her to shut up. I would have done it myself but Jack gave me a pointed look.

"Come on! You can't handle raw power?"

"Proximity sensor," Bulkhead informed the deaf girl. "Quick, hide!"

"No shit Captain Obvious," I said but listened anyway.

The elevator was already descending as we all ran to the nearest cover: behind Bulkhead's leg. And we hid not a moment too soon because the elevator doors opened right as we had just hidden ourselves as well as we could.

"Prime!"

 _Well someone didn't eat his Cheerios this morning_.

"Agent Fowler," Bulkhead greeted nervously. "Uh, he's not here. Nobody's here. Except me, of course." Dammit! He seriously needed to chill out or otherwise Fowler would get suspicious and eventually find us.

"Well where did he go? Wait, don't tell me. He's out pancaking a mini-mall! Now, I don't know what language you 'Bots speak on your planet, but Prime promised he would handle the Decepticons! And blowing a crater in the middle of Nebraska is not what the word 'handle' means in English! So you tell Prime—"

 _Scrrrrrrreeeeech_ …

 _Someone. Shoot. Me. Now_.

If we made it out of getting sent to federal prison, I was going to kill Miko slowly, painfully, and in every way possible. The stupid bitch had forgotten to disconnect her guitar and was now yanking on the cord as if that was going to magically unplug itself noiselessly, but instead, she was creating an even bigger clusterfuck for us. There are not enough words in the world to describe how stupid Miko is. But if given the chance, I'd sure as hell try my best. How she survived this long, I will never know.

"Since when are you, 'Bots, electric?" Fowler asked.

We had been made. There was no point in pretending any longer.

"Hey! How you doing?" Jack greeted cheerily as we came out of hiding.

The only word I can think of to describe Fowler's expression right now is 'livid'. "Contact with civilians! Team Prime has really gone off book this time. Wait, don't tell me: you're running a day-care center."

What the hell was it with people assuming that we were children? Carefully I forced myself to calm.

Bulkhead mumbled uneasily, probably trying to figure out how to best explain the situation to the government agent.

In situations like these, dealing with a cover blown is about stalling for time. Stay alive long enough to figure out what they know and tell a bigger lie to save yourself. Of course, choosing a cover I.D. on-the-fly is always a challenge. So when there's no time to think, it's best to go with something simple that keeps your options open. Also, when you're claiming to be someone you're not, the key is commitment. You've got to sell it like your life depends on it. Because sometimes it does. One reason to work with the same people is you know each other's moves; so, for example, if you shoot at your team in the middle of an operation, they know to go with it.

Of course, working with untrained amateurs introduces an element of risk. It's a risk you have to live with in a lot of operations, although you often found yourself wishing that everybody went through Green Beret training in high school.

"You– uh– we're interns," Jack finally lied, badly.

"Student interns," Rafael input looking visibly nervous.

"Er– Uh– Earning extra credit in…Auto shop!" he said last bit at the same time Miko said, "Robotics!"

 _Can I melt into a puddle of shame yet?_

Sadly, Fowler did not buy it. I wonder what gave it away: the bad lying involved or a certain dunce holding a freaking guitar.

"Okay, let's move. I'm taking all four of you into federal custody. It's for your own protection," he said, heading toward us as if he were ready to frog-march us to our doom.

Then, like a freaking giant green metal angel swooping in from above, Bulkhead stepped in. Literally.

"We're protecting them," he told the agent firmly, a large foot planted between the four of us and the fed. _I could kiss you about now Bulkhead_.

One thing to know about people who work for the government: Bureaucrats live for respect. East of Balkans, that means bribe. In the West…it's more about showing you know they're in charge.

"Is that so?" Fowler practically snarled, walking over to a phone that was on the wall. "Well maybe you can explain that to _my superiors_ at the Pentagon!"

Just as Fowler was about to make the call, Bulkhead said, "Don't use that phone! It's—" he shoved a large digit into the pad, easily breaking it. "—Out of order."

"This isn't over, Big Foot! Not by a long shot!" the agent declared heading to the elevator.

Miko just mimed him and rolled her eyes behind his back.

As soon as he was gone, I said, "You guys do realize that he's going to tattle to his superiors now, right?"

They all had the decency to look a little abashed; Bulkhead groaned dejectedly, probably planning his own obituary for his funeral when Optimus found out.

Then, deciding that they had stewed in their misery long enough, I turned to Bulkhead with quirked lips and continued what I was saying. "But thanks anyway big guy. That should keep him busy for a bit."

The bulky bot returned the gesture, but before he could say anything, another alarm went off, this one shriller and more piercing.

Poor little Rafael. The sound must have been especially excruciating to his younger, more sensitive ears. "My ears!"

"It's an SOS," Bulkhead informed us looking at the monitor. "From Fowler."

The bot looked around at the keyboard, probably trying to find the button to stop the noise, but it was pretty obvious that he had no idea what he was doing. Thankfully, the noise was cut.

The four of us looked at each other.

"Did you trace it?" Raf asked.

"Location scan was incomplete. Oh well," the bot shrugged obviously not caring about the less than pleasant agent.

Jack looked predictably shocked. "'Oh well'? Seriously?"

"Fowler's a jerk!" the bot defended himself.

"Whoa! Whether you like the guy or not, the Decepticons may have him!" Jack reasoned.

"And Agent Fowler knows your location," Raf added helpfully before taking in his own words and gulping, "Our location."

"And did we not just witness how fast Fowler backs down from a bot? The 'Cons will totally make him squeal!" Miko said overdramatizing the situation.

Deciding to seal the deal, I calmly said, "Bulkhead, whether you like him or not, Agent Fowler knows very sensitive information. And while I'm not insinuating that he would willingly betray us, eventually everyone cracks under enough pressure. So, unless you want to risk losing the war to the 'Cons because one man squealed, we need to save him. The only way to win this war is to have a safe place to plan coordinated attacks, otherwise they will pick you off one by one, and then all those lives lost of those who fought for the Autobots will have been lost in vain. So if you are not going to rescue Fowler because you like him, then do it for the other Autobots and the chance of winning your war."

By now, Raf and Miko were looking at me a little shocked and amazed. Jack just looked a little nervous; he knew that I was very good at manipulating people's emotions to work in my favor when I needed them to; Bulkhead, on the other hand, looked like he had been dealt a very significant blow.

"But we lost the transmission," he said sounding a little choked. "Fowler could be anywhere."

I smiled slightly, giving a pointed glance at the youngest among us. "Oh I don't think that's going to be a problem."

"Maybe I can narrow it down," Raf said taking his cue and getting onto his laptop. "About five years ago, the government started microchipping their agents. You know, like owners do with pets." He stopped talking when he saw everyone looking at him with varying degrees of shock. "What? I saw it on TV. Anyways, if I can hack into the Fed's mainframe, maybe I can pinpoint Fowler's coordinates."

While I had had suspicions that Raf was very gifted, my eyebrows could still be felt rising higher with each passing second as he spoke. I think if I ever needed to erase my complete digital existence, I would definitely go to him.

"You know how to hack?" Miko asked stupidly. "But you're like two years old!"

"Twelve," the spiky haired kid admitted, before adding, "And a quarter."

Cheeky kid. Now he was just rubbing it in.

"Latitude 39.5, longitude 116.9," Raf finally read out loud as Bulkhead typed in the coordinates.

"Okay," Bulkhead said. "Wait here."

Miko, of course, protested. "Aww, don't break up the band!"

Ignoring her, Bulkhead hurriedly said, "Jack, Aria, you're in charge." Then he rushed into the Ground Bridge, not noticing the tail that he had picked up.

That 'effing idiot.

"Guess we three have the run of the place," Jack stated before noticing our depleted number. "Miko?"

No response.

"Miko?" he called again louder.

Still no response, obviously.

"Don't bother. She's not here anymore. The idiot followed Bulkhead through the Bridge," I said with a scowl.

"She what?!" Jack exclaimed.

"What should we do?" Raf worried. "Bulkhead may have not even realized that she followed him."

"Miko hasn't seen the 'Cons in action like we have," Jack said. "She has no idea."

As much as I disliked her, I wasn't going to allow Miko to die because of her ignorance, but if only not to have her death on my conscience. "We have to go get her back. Raf, can you try to get the Ground Bridge working?"

Raf looked at the human-sized monitors near us. "Those are the coordinates. Their destination is still locked in."

"Come on Jack, we've got an 'effing idjit to drag back," I said, already starting to walk away.

Jack sighed. "Um…You're in charge!" he said to Raf as he followed my lead and we both headed for the Ground Bridge. He knew that he needed me along.

"In charge of who?!" Raf exclaimed incredulously behind us. There was a sound of some typing on a keyboard followed by the patter of footsteps. He came up behind us just as the Bridge spiraled to life. There was a stubborn look in the kids' eyes; it said 'I will not be left behind.' I didn't like it but didn't want to waste time arguing about it either.

Sharing a final look, we stepped through the Ground Bridge together. But when I got to the other side, I was alone, in a barren, rocky valley.

Where the hell was I?

* * *

So what do you think?

I did make some slight mentions to Aria's past here, but **do not** under any circumstances assume you know what she used to do. I will get to that and go in more depth _later_.

Oh, and the Costco card reference! Awhile back, myself and a couple friends were having this discussion about where we would go if the zombie apocalypse happened. Those who knew me said they would go too my place because I have like fifteen millon different knives and two swords (both only decoration sadly). Then one guy mentioned Costco. He said something like Costco has concrete walls, you can practically camp out there for days, and...they need a Costco card to get in.

Also, I know I keep saying 'eyes', 'head', 'fingers', and etc. when referring to Cybertronian features in here. But Aria doesn't know that...yet. So for all you die-hard Transformers fans, please be patient, I will get there soon.

Thirdly, I know that me saying 'I', 'I', 'I' all the time is getting annoying. And I do plan on changing that sometime soon, probably after the Darkness Rising Mini Series is over.

Also, I need opinions on two things:

1) Should I later introduce a bot that is not apart of the Transformers Prime series? If so, who? I've got a list so far for Ironhide, Prowl, and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker (since you seriously cannot have one without the other). Please list in order from absolute favorite to least favorite. Maybe add another not you want in and I'll consider it. Please leave your answers in a review.

2) I need to know which name sounds cooler or more bad-ass: Death Dealer or White Wolf? If you think of something better leave it in a review.

And finally, as for my personal romance troubles... When I got home I figure one of three things would happen. A) She would be like 'I knew it!', B) She'd go into a pots and pans throwing fit, or C) She'd make so many bad jokes at my expense that I would shoot myself in the head. Instead when I got home and asked her, even told her what I thought she would do, she just said, "Sorry to disappiont you." LOL All that worrying for nothing.

Anyway, please review and tell me what you think. I would really appreciate it if you did that. I do accept constructive criticisms.

Any questions? Concerns? Gripes?

Please review!


	4. I Piss Off an Evil Alien Dictator

Howdy folks! You miss me?

Thank you to all who reviewed, favorited, and followed. I really appreciate it. And for those who answered my 'I need help' parts in the previous chapter, thank you so much for your input, please give yourself a pat on the back or take a bow. You earned it.

Also, I'd like to acknowledge an amazing person whom I have dubbed as SkipperGoldfinch35 on here. He was an amazing help when I did my research for this chapter. And if you are reading this Skipper then **Oorah!**

Now, onto the disclaimer and then story!

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own Transformers Prime in any way, shape, or form. Sadly. Also, I do not own other quoted sources in here.

* * *

 **Chapter 4: I Piss Off an Evil Alien Dictator**

 _Where am I?_ I wondered. Jack and Raf were nowhere to be seen.

I was standing in a deep canyon. Not as deep as the Grand Canyon, obviously, but deep enough that even Optimus would be dwarfed.

 _Man that is an unusual mental image_.

The sky was dark and overcast making the barren place seem a little more ominous.

Looking around for any clues, I almost missed the tracks right under my feet. They were definitely Cybertronian, judging by their size and depth. Warily, I eyed them, wondering whether to follow them or not. Two different treads, two bots; whoever was here didn't look to be any hurry. The tracks were close and not so spaced out as if they were running. Of course, I'd probably see tire tracks if they were really trying to gun it out of here.

Mentally, I weighed my options before finally shrugging. Even if it was some sort of trap, I highly doubted that it was meant for a human; Cybertronians were more likely to look around at their eye-level rather than down.

So, with an air of caution, I silently started to follow the tracks, jogging so as to catch up with whoever I was following. Hopefully, they had a working Ground Bridge that wouldn't send me to unknown destinations.

I sent up a silent prayer _. Please, Jack, be safe little brother_.

* * *

"Rise My Army!" a deep booming voice commanded causing a slight feeling of dread to settle over me. "Behold the power of Dark Energon!"

What I saw when I crested over the ridge, nearly gave me a heart attack. A lone figure stood on a spire of rock, alone, laughing as an army of the undead rose as commanded, swarming a familiar pair of bots.

"Destroy them!" the figure commanded.

 _Shit_.

In any desperate situation, the temptation is always to act immediately. It's understandable but unwise. No matter how bad things are the first step is always the same: assess the threat and figure out how bad things really are.

 _Okay, so what were the current threats? The Zombie 'Con army and the 'Con leading them. Optimus and Ratchet weren't going to last long against that many zombies. The only good thing was that they seemed more or less like mindless drones, slow-moving and simply attacking anything in their path. But, even if Optimus and Ratchet did survive the attack, they would be severely weakened. And then they would have to face the 'Con above_.

Finally, I came to a grim conclusion. When faced with a superior force, you can do things: you can retreat quietly or you can attack with as much fanfare as possible.

Optimus transformed his arms— _servos_ , I corrected—into blasters and began shooting at the oncoming army.

Quickly, I searched my bag for some of my new prototypes, before smiling when I came up with a handful of small, round objects.

Blitzkrieg, or lightning war was a strategy pioneered by the Germans in World War II. It refers to a fast attack designed to inspire fear and confusion penetrating quickly behind enemy lines.

But creating a good diversion isn't just about creating noise and firing guns. It's about giving the enemy the impression that he's being attacked in a way that demands the immediate attention of all of his forces. Ideally something big and very, very loud.

Pushing the button on a couple of them, I lobbed one directly at the spire the Decepticon was standing on before chucking a couple more straight into a thick group of Cybertronian zombies.

 _BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_ The resounding explosions that rocked the entire valley were pure music to my ears.

Sadly though, while the charges I had thrown at the zombies had effectively removed several of their limbs and possibly permanently downed one or two, the one I had thrown at the 'Con had done very little to deter him, merely exploding in his face, though it had gained his attention.

Knowing that I had little time left, I pulled out a gun.

Now I typically don't use guns at all. But if I need one, I'll use it. But a lot of the times, people tend to overestimate the value of weapons. Choosing the time and place of a fight is often more important than having a lot of fire-power. It doesn't matter if all you've got is some spa rocks and a wet towel if you can surprise an unarmed opponent on favorable ground, that can be all you need.

Aiming carefully, I breathed in and pulled the trigger just as I exhaled.

"Aarrrrgggghhhh!" The gunmetal grey and purple accented Decepticon screamed, clutching the left side of his face as Energon bled down his metal cheek.

"Who _dares_ attack me?!" He roared, now scouring the area with his only working purple optic.

I had to fight the urge to shout back, "Nobody!"

In a fight, there's a tunnel vision that people develop. They focus on their enemy, oblivious to everything else. The angrier they get, the more intense their focus. There comes a point where the adrenaline is so intense you could land a jet behind them and they wouldn't notice.

Taking aim once again, I shot three bullets in a neat row down one of his legs.

Another fun fact: anyone who has played soccer knows there's a long nerve that runs down the shin. Hit that nerve and people lock up in pain. Hopefully the same could be said for giant metal aliens.

Now you are probably wondering: aren't normal bullets going to be the equivalent of a bug bite to these guys? The answer is yes. _Normal_ bullets probably would be useless. But, during the fight a couple days ago, I had learned that while normal bullets probably won't work on their thick metal hides, something hot like blaster fire apparently would, which is to say super-heated rounds like Armor-Piercing shells. Sadly, I do not have the kind of guns or rifles that would fit most of the larger types of rounds. I did however grab a small pistol-handgun with 25mm rounds of depleted Uranium in it and enough ammo to withhold a small siege on my way out this morning. Illegal but totally worth it.

The Decepticon howled in pain, going down onto one knee. Of course, with me firing off those shots, he finally located me.

"You're going to pay for that fleshling!" he screeched, drawing Optimus and Ratchets' attention. Their optics widened when they saw me but they could do nothing as they were being assailed by multiple zombie 'Cons.

"Bring it fugly!" I challenged though I'm not sure he heard me.

In battle, not even the best laid plans survive contact with the enemy. If you want to survive, you have to be willing to improvise. Of course, there's such a thing as too much improvisation.

The Decepticon transformed his servo into a huge-ass cannon and took aim. Just in time, I jumped off the ridge without a second thought and thankfully managed to get ahold of zombie before I was made into a fresh grease-stain on the battleground, swinging up until I landed on its shoulders. _Thank you gymnastics_.

Another useful fact: fighting is often about tactical retreats, like running away from a giant alien warlord on the rampage. It's also about knowing how to work your opponents emotions to your favor.

"Were you even aiming for me you ten-ton tin head?! My grandmother could shoot better than you, ya giant puss-filled boil!" I mocked now bringing out my batons and transforming the tips into blades as I jumped from zombie to zombie, slashing and hacking at any exposed areas that I thought were important.

All I got was a raged-filled roar as he once again took aim at me, looking ready to kill.

Again, I dodged the shot. This time the shot hit the Zombie that I had previously been standing on.

I forced myself to emit a taunting laugh as I jumped onto the next zombie nearest to me. "Are you kidding?! You couldn't even hit me if I stood still ya fat lout!"

If I could see myself, on the outside I probably looked like I was taking absolute glee from taunting the Decepticon. On the inside however, I was a nervous bundle of jitters, praying like crazy that he wouldn't hit me.

"YOU WILL DIE!" came his thunderous roar.

"Seriously? Is that the best you've got? I've heard scarier threats from toddlers!" I taunted as I stabbed at another brittle area on a zombie.

He was so focused on me; he didn't even realize that he was taking out his own troops. Of course, sometimes a brilliant plan goes a little too well; the 'Con became so fed up that he didn't bother with single shots; he just started firing multiple shots randomly at the general area I was in.

It doesn't matter if you're a soldier or civilian. Falling isn't fun. You can minimize injury by absorbing shock with your knees and rolling as you hit the ground. But the most important thing you need to do is remain calm and accept that it's going to hurt.

In the distance, I could hear someone screaming my name, but I pushed the afterthought to the side.

As I hit the ground, I lost sight of the 'Con, dodging in and out between legs, listening as he taunted Optimus and Ratchet. I guess he assumed that bug squashed meant game over.

"I have mastered Dark Energon. When you fall Optimus, you too shall join my army," he crooned.

"Oh for fucks sake! Get over yourself you fragging narcissist!" I swore aloud though the words were lost in the battle. I had no idea where the word had come from or what 'fragging' meant, but it sounded pretty good. I persistently ran from zombie to zombie, cutting at the exposed wires in the joints and effectively severing several limbs.

But as I continued to fight, I could feel my strength slowly being sapped. The Dark Energon seemed to be taking affect on me.

 _I can't give up now_ , I thought. _I refuse to go out like this_.

Over the din, I could hear a familiar deep, baritone voice say, "We cannot falter now!"

Somehow, the words gave me the strength to keep going, adding to my resolve. Then, I heard it.

"Optimus!" Ratchet cried out. I looked to where I had previously seen the Autobot leader but all I could see was a dog-pile of zombies through the crowd of legs. My eyes widened. _Oh God, please don't tell me he's under there_.

Ratchet wasn't faring much better. In his brief lapse in worry for his friend, the mindless dead aliens were soon starting to overwhelm him too, slowly dragging him down with their combined weight as well.

Megatron—as I assumed that that was who he was—laughed darkly, thoroughly enjoying the show from his perch.

Thankfully, they weren't under long though; Optimus bellowed as he threw them off, slashing and hacking away at them with a vengeance, but even then, you could tell that his strength was waning.

In one of my brief reprieves from the battle, I watched as he looked around and spotted Ratchet on the ground, being assailed relentlessly by the undead army; he fought his way over to him, pulling the zombies off of his medic.

"After all these years, Optimus, still at the top of your game," the purple-eyed freak taunted from above. That jackass was really starting to piss me off.

Together, Optimus and Ratchet fought through the ranks, heading toward the Decepticon leader.

"My legion, _**Finish them**_!"

I knew well enough that we couldn't hold out much longer. The Dark Energon combined with the gruesome battle was gradually, bit by bit, draining our strength. We needed to end this _**now**_.

In any tactical situation where you're out-numbered and out-gunned it's essential not to let fear or panic push you into making the first move. In combat, the defender usually has the advantage. Although that can be hard to remember when you have an army of undead zombies on your tail.

But when you find yourself in a tough situation, like being outnumbered and outsized twenty to one in a battle with an undead alien army, it's important to remember that the key to any battle is intelligence. It may be tempting to shoot first and ask questions later; but, if you wanna stay alive you ask questions first.

 _So how do I end this now? Think Aria. If the Dark Energon allows Megatron to control them, then he must have something similar like that running through him too and if he can control them that way_ … As a realization came to mind, I couldn't help but smile despite my exhaustion. Wheeling about, I ran as fast as I could, downing zombies who got in my way as I headed straight for Megatron; it was time to take out the head of the snake.

Optimus seemed to have come to a similar mindset, heading in the same direction with Ratchet in tow. By now there was little to none left of the undead army.

"Bravo Optimus," the King 'Con leered. "Though this is but a prelude. You may wish to save your strength for the _main event_."

Optimus did not falter as he stopped at the bottom of the spire, transforming his blades back into servos and beginning to climb.

"You will not prevail, Megatron," he told the 'Con, a steely look in his eyes. "Not while Energon still flows through my veins."

I had to hand it to him; he sure knew how to make an impressive speech.

"Fitting, for it is Dark Energon which flows through mine," Megatron sneered down at the Autobot leader. Was he trying to say something?

Just as Optimus went to grab Megatron, the lead 'Con jumped away, transforming into some kind of jet and taking off to who knows where.

As Optimus helped the medic up, I pulled myself up behind them, also surveying the battlefield below.

"If that was what he called a prelude, I don't think I want to find out what he calls a main event," I commented dryly behind them, causing both to jump and whirl around, blasters and blades aimed at me.

"Whoa! Friendly," I managed to squeak out, gloved hands raised in surrender.

"Aria?" they both questioned in unison, blue optics wide with astonishment.

I rolled my grey eyes as they retracted their weapons. "The one and only. Who else is awesome enough to back talk the Decepticon Leader himself?" I said, bowing theatrically then huffing irritably when a strand of my long blonde hair—which had come out of its neat bun from earlier—got in my face.

Optimus crouched down, offering me a hand to climb into, and I obliged with little difficulty, but as the adrenaline began to wear off, I decided to just flop down and lay in his hand instead. Tiredly, I smiled up at both of the 'Bots as they examined me critically, looking for serious injuries.

"You guys look awful," I finally decided to voice in a joking manner. Both of them looked like…well, they looked like they had been through a warzone, in contrary to when I had first met them on the other hand.

"Aria, we thought you had been offlined by Megatron," Ratchet said, sounding relieved.

For what felt like the millionth time that day, I rolled my eyes. They should seriously consider making eye-rolling a cardio workout. "It's nice to know you care so much Ratch'," I teased. "But no, I'm obviously not dead. Might have a couple bruises, bumps and scrapes, possibly a sprained ankle, but I'm still very much alive." Then, making a thoughtful face, I said, "You know, in a sense, I'm a lot like a cockroach really; no matter how many times you try to squish me, I'm gonna just keep coming back." I looked back to Ratchet with an impish smile. "Sorry to disappoint ya, but I'm gonna be around to annoy you for a very long time Hatchet."

The medic looked annoyed, but I could tell that he was secretly happy that I was alive.

Optimus, however, said very little, instead opting to check over me thoroughly.

"Optimus, I'm fine, really. Stop worrying," I said trying to get out from under his scrutiny, though it was pretty useless considering that I was laying in his hand.

"You should not have engaged Megatron on your own so foolishly," he finally spoke, retracting his battle mask. "You may very well have been offlined."

"But I'm not," I shot back cheekily. "Besides, the distraction worked didn't it? He was so busy being focused on me, taking out his own troops, might I add, that he completely forgot about you guys. In turn, that took some of the heat off of you guys. Am I right?"

Neither of them replied, though neither looked happy.

"Anyway, how you both holding up?" I finally inquired, changing tactics. "How's the arm Ratch'?"

"I'll be fine," the medic admitted, clutching his right arm.

"Good to hear. Optimus?"

"Minimal damage," he said, though I could see in his eyes that our previous conversation wasn't over.

We all lapsed into silence, looking back to the ruins of the battlefield below.

"If this wasn't Megatrons' endgame, what is?" Ratchet eventually asked, turning to his leader.

Optimus didn't reply but I got the sneaking suspicion that he had a couple good ideas of what Megatron could have been referring to.

* * *

-Autobot base-

I watched from a distance as Optimus carefully welded Ratchet's injured limb into a sort of metal brace. He needed to keep it on for a bit, but he'd survive.

When we had got back to base, Jack had been relieved to see that I was alright. He explained how they had 'stormed the Decepticon warship' and had several times nearly been blasted to smithereens. Thankfully, it had all worked out in the end and they had gotten Fowler back in one piece though he was still unconscious in a gurney, hooked up to an IV, not to mention that his sanity was still in question.

Just to be sure, I inspected Fowler at Jack's request. Aside from the burn marks and the assorted bruises and scrapes, and the possible strained muscles from being chained up, the only real danger about the agent was the question of his mental health. I knew from experience that torture can leave all sorts of scars on you, both mental and physical.

Anyway, Miko was the one to finally ask the question. "What happened to you guys anyway?"

"We engaged an army of undead Cybertronian warriors," Ratchet told her.

"Yeah it was not pleasant," I added, scowling.

Immediately, the foreign exchange student perked up, ignoring my words. "Zombies? You fought zombies and I missed it?!"

 _Seriously? I thought that foreign exchange students were supposed to be the ones more likely to get doctorates and all_.

Before I could slap her however, Optimus started to give Bulkhead his due lecture. "Bulkhead, you exercised extreme poor judgement in allowing the humans to accompany you."

Have you ever had a teacher, that you absolutely hate, lecture you and you don't give a damn about what they said? And then you have a teacher, who you adore and actually respect, lecture you and immediately you want to go crawl into a dark hole and die? Well I'm pretty sure the latter is how Bulkhead felt right now. And even though Optimus hadn't directed his lecture at me, I still felt bad.

"It won't happen again Optimus. Uh- Ah- I promise," the green giant assured him.

"But it wasn't Bulkhead's fault," Miko defended.

 _No it technically was both your faults_ , I thought. Harsh, I know, but it was true. If she hadn't followed, none of this would have happened. And even if she had, Bulkhead could have immediately called base for a Ground Bridge and have sent her back.

"Miko, _please_ ," he hissed. He knew that he deserved the lecture, too.

But the girl kept on going. "And check it out," she said, whipping out her phone and showing something to Optimus. "Recon!"

Optimus' optics widened slightly as he looked at the tiny image. It was a subtle enough indicator that whatever was on there was pretty important.

 _Well what do you know; Mikos' stupidity actually was useful for a change_.

Humming, he turned to the scarlet and white bot and said, "Ratchet have a look. It could be of importance to Megatron."

That last sentence was enough to clue me in. "Optimus, does this have something to do with what Megatron was hinting at? His 'main event'?" I asked.

Jack, however, was still computing the name that had been surreptitiously thrown out there. "Whoa, wait, Megatron's back?" the raven-haired teen sounded a little panicked. "That's really bad news right?"

Ratchet, on the other hand, was inspecting the image on Mikos' phone. "I…don't understand," he finally said, looking bewildered.

Miko turned her phone around to look at the screen. "Oops. That's the 'Con who tried to blow Raf away. At least, that's what he looked like before Bulkhead rearranged his grill." She looked actually _happy_ as she said that.

Those were exactly the wrong words to say. And surprisingly, I wasn't the one to blow up on her.

"Miko, Raf was almost killed! This isn't a game! When are you gonna get that through your thick skull!" Jack shouted at her. Owlishly, I blinked somewhat in shock; I guess I wasn't the only one she pissed off.

"Um, we were all almost killed, Jack. You, me, Raf, even them and Aria!" she argued back pointing to the bots as she mentioned them.

Sadly, when under a lot of pressure, even the best of us crack, and Jack was no exception. "Well if this was just an average day with the Autobots, then I don't wanna be a part of it. Not anymore."

Miko looked about to respond when Optimus stepped in. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

"Jack, putting you in harm's way was never our intent," the Autobot leader said calmly. "However, it is no longer the safety of you four that is at risk, but the safety of all human-kind. We will respect your decision if you wish to leave."

Jack looked down though I knew he had made his decision; Ratchet had already powered up the Ground Bridge taking the 'rip the Band-Aid off quickly' approach.

"No point in long 'good-byes'. Here's the door."

Jack turned to Raf. "Come on Raf," he said, probably figuring that the kid was scared witless after nearly being killed.

The computer techie kid looked back at the bots, at Bumblebee to be precise. Said bot looked rather sad at the fact that his new friend might be leaving. In an instant, I knew what the kid's decision would be.

"I'll be okay Jack. See you at school."

He turned to me. "Aria?"

It felt like someone had stabbed me in the heart with a knife; as much as it pained me to do so, I shook my head. "No Jack. I plan on seeing this through. Sorry little bro." And I truly meant it for once. "Catch ya on the flip side though, alright?"

He looked hurt, as if I had just betrayed him, and I guess in a sense I had. "Sure," he said though it was half-hearted as he made his way down the stairs.

I watched from a distance as Arcee and Jack exchanged a couple words. It was pretty obvious that she didn't want him to go, no matter how much she pretended otherwise.

Discreetly, I shot Optimus a look that said, 'do you still think that we're not gonna get attached?'

* * *

That night, I stayed at base. Not really ideal since the food rations left over by the soldiers were pretty terrible, but beggars can't be choosers I suppose. My excuse to the bots was that I'd stay to monitor Agent Fowler because probably waking up to the sight of bots after he had just been tortured by some was probably not ideal.

Of course, in all honesty, I just wanted to monitor the situation with the Decepticons more closely.

Meanwhile, Ratchet stood at his usual place at the monitors, trying to decipher the image that Miko had taken on the Decepticon warship, which I had learned was named the _Nemesis_. Totally not cliché right?

Ratchet suddenly gasped as a tone was emitted from the screens before him; his optics were wide with understanding. "It can't be," he mumbled before calling louder, "Optimus!"

Almost immediately, the Autobot commander came up behind him.

"These are engineering specs for a space time vortex generator," the medic informed him.

"Megatron's building a Space Bridge," he translated, realization dawning on his face. "If he hasn't already."

"The sooner he leaves, the better," Bulkhead piped up as he entered the room, the others also filing in, probably drawn by the noise; Arcee wasn't with them for some reason though I could probably guess why.

"Bulkhead a Space Bridge runs in two directions. Megatron may not be using it to leave Earth, but to bring through his conquering army."

"The 'main event" Megatron referred to," Ratchet said starting to put some of the piece together. "But the only place Megatron could possibly recruit that many fallen warriors…" He trailed off as realization hit.

"Of course," I whispered.

"Precisely," Optimus confirmed looking up to the ceiling as if he could see his lifeless planet already being desecrated.

"Cybertron."

* * *

Now things are getting interesting.

Any questions? Concerns? Gripes?

Also, a bit more info on the 25mm rounds of depleted Uranium: it is very illegal and is dangerous to humans. It is a toxic yet flammable metal. And if you were to touch, eat, drink, or breathe Uranium, you would likely die. I do not encourage any contact with this metal whatsoever. Thanks again to SkipperGoldfinch35 for pointing me in the right direction. Semper Fi to you!

Secondly: the part where Aria had to refrain from shouting 'Nobody!' at Megatron. That was a reference to Homers novel the 'Odyssey', whn Odysseus and his men were trapped by the cyclops, Polyphemus. Long story short for those of you who don't know, after Odysseus managed to blind Polyphemus by poking out his eye with a flaming hot log, the cyclops had called out, asking who had done this to him and Odysseus retorted 'Nobody'. So when the other cyclopes asked who had blinded him, all Polyphemus coul say was 'Nobody'.

Please review and tell me if the resulting headache from typing this was worth it or not.


	5. Ding-Dong the Warlord's Dead!

Here we are with the final part of the Darkness Rising Series! I'm so excited!

Thank you all for those who have favorited, reviewed, and followed. Also, a special thanks to Catlover4536 and The Whispering Sage for repeatedly reviewing and sending me your opinions. Thank you so much!

Oh, and before I forget, I am thinking, yes **_thinking-_** so don't get your hopes up too high-of getting/making a deviantart account to put pictures for this story on there. **But** , I will not make any promises... _yet_. I just thought that I should throw that out there.

Anyway, enough of my yammering. On with the show!

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own Transformers or other quoted sources.

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Ding-Dong the Warlord's Dead!**

-Optimus' POV-

Optimus honestly did not know what to make of the human girl who was currently recharging on the couch. She was probably the only human he had met that he had trouble figuring out. Her stormy grey optics always seemed to hold much intelligence and wisdom behind them but whenever she looked at you with them, it always felt as if she was picking you apart, analyzing your every movement as if she was trying to solve a very elaborate puzzle. Anything placed before her seemed to be thoroughly picked apart and analyzed with great scrutiny.

What intrigued him most about her was that she was quiet and very reserved with her emotions, always hiding behind this mask and purposefully distancing herself from others. Aside from the occasional snark-filled comment, Optimus wondered if she ever showed her true emotions.

But she was never afraid to speak her mind. Even when she had first met them, she hadn't even seemed afraid like most humans were at the sight of them. Even during their battle with Megatrons' undead army, she had remained calm and collected, demonstrating a great deal of bravery and courage for one so small. Even going so far as to taunt the Decepticon warlord himself.

And when she spoke, he noticed that her words always seemed to be careful and calculated; always constructed to meet a certain goal that she had in mind. Optimus had even heard from Bulkhead of how convincing she had been in getting him to rescue Agent Fowler when he at first had been unwilling; she was very intelligent, that was for sure.

It made Optimus wonder who Aria Slade-Cage really was beneath all those carefully constructed masks and walls.

The Autobot leader shook his head. Another matter for another time.

* * *

-Arias' POV, Dream-

 _Blurry images rushed by me._

 _A metal planet lifeless and dead._

 _A purple crystal filled with evil intent._

 _The vast expanse and darkness of space._

 _A view of Earth from high in orbit; the sun peeked out from behind it as an alien ship made its way towards me._

 _Flaming cities with citizens screaming as they tried to take cover._

 _Megatron grinning._

 _Dead Cybertronians reanimating with purple fire._

 _And finally, an explosion of blue that seemed to shake the world_.

* * *

-Aria, Later-

It was late in the evening when finally some new developments took place.

"Optimus, I've pinpointed the location of Megatron's Space Bridge," Ratchet called. "High in Earth's orbit."

"Out of our reach," Optimus agreed.

"Okay, so you guys don't fly, but can't you just Ground Bridge there?" Miko asked, confused and I had to admit that I was too.

"The Ground Bridge has _limited range_ ," Ratchet stressed to the ignorant girl. "Stretched all the way into orbit, its vortex could snap and scatter us to the stars," the medic explained.

Thankfully, for my blood pressures' sake, the words effectively shut her up.

"But Ratchet," I input, "if the Ground Bridge can send you all the way to the other side of the world, shouldn't the distance it takes to reach space be an easy feat?"

"The Ground Bridge was not meant for such altitudes, which is why it is called a _Ground_ Bridge," he enunciated.

"Well okay then. No need to get so snippy," I muttered.

"Since Megatron is likely already in transit, I'm afraid we must take that risk," Optimus announced gravely. "Reaching the Space Bridge first is our only means of stopping him."

Just as he was about to give the command to 'roll-out', a familiar engine, tided by the beep of a small horn, heralded the entrance of a blue and pink Autobot in motorcycle form and a familiar raven-haired teen with her.

"Hey, guess who's back!" Jack greeted a little nervously as he dismounted, taking off his helmet, and looking as if he was not sure what everyone's reactions would be.

"Autobots: prepare for departure," Optimus said, giving each guardian and charge a chance to say their good-byes.

Jacks smile melted.

"Where to?" Arcee asked curiously.

"The final frontier," Miko answered theatrically.

Jack was taken aback. "Wha- Space? I-I-I thought that they didn't have any way to get there."

"They don't," Raf agreed as Bumblebee lowered the boy down to the ground, allowing him to hop off. "Not really…"

Jack turned to Arcee. "Well… Be seein' ya?" he asked hopefully.

Arcee flashed him a smile, an actual _smile_. Damn! Where was that camera when you needed one?

As she walked away, I looked over from my spot on the platform to where Jack was standing; my grey orbs catching his own blue ones.

 _We good?_ I mouthed.

He nodded, shooting me a small smile which I returned.

As the other kids gathered together to say their farewells' to their guardians, I made my way over to Optimus to impart my own words of wisdom per say.

"Think you can go somewhere without saying 'see you soon' to me?" I inquired with a raised eyebrow.

It may have just been my imagination, but I swore that the corners of his mouth twitched a little. "Good-bye, Aria," he acknowledged.

I rolled my eyes, exasperatedly. "It's not 'good-bye', Optimus. It's ' _see you later_ '. You seriously need to start having a more 'glass-is-half-full' type of attitude."

This time, I was positive that his lips actually did twitch. "Very well, I shall see you later Aria."

"That's better," I nodded. "Good luck Prime. Don't die on me. You may be useful yet, okay?" I told him firmly, before finally allowing part of my emotionless mask to slip down a little, showing my misgivings about this fight. "'Til all are one, Optimus Prime of Cybertron," I finally said in almost a whisper.

I don't know where the words came from but they just felt right as Optimus' optics widened slightly in surprise at the words.

Eventually, he got over his shock and said, bowing his great head slightly, "Until all are one, Aria Slade-Cage of Earth."

And with that, he turned away.

My life often demands a kind of cool detachment. When what you do requires you to keep secrets and break trust, you learn to keep people at arm's length. It's one thing to lie to an asset. It's another to lie to a friend. And when you get emotional about something, even if it's just your appointed alien guardian walking to battle, you get distracted. And getting distracted can be very, very dangerous.

Despondently, I watched as Ratchet said, "Optimus, if you leave me stranded on a planet teeming with humans, I will _never_ forgive you." The threat was, of course, well meaning, but it was easily translated into one simple thing: ' _Come back safe_.'

"Until we meet again old friend," Optimus acknowledged, his battle mask slipping into place. "Autobots: Roll-Out!"

And with that, they all transformed into V-mode and took off into the Ground Bridge. I looked around at everyone else and they all unknowingly shared the same expressions.

There's nothing more frustrating for people who are used to action, than being on the sidelines for an important operation. When you've spent a majority of your life in the middle of the action, it's tough to take on a supporting role—particularly when you're stuck babysitting a couple teens and a comatose government agent.

-{ **Autobots: transform and gravitize!** }- I heard Optimus' voice over the bases' comm. unit.

And even when you know what's going on in the field, it still doesn't help, if anything, it just makes it worse. It's a lot like being a fireman strapped to a chair, watching as a the building before you goes down in flames, and knowing that you had the skills to have done something but couldn't.

-{ **Whoa! Don't look down. Or up. Or left.** }- Bulkhead said nervously. I guess it must have been pretty disorienting to think that one wrong move and you could be sent hurtling into the vast emptiness of space, never to be seen again.

-{ **So Megatron's packing enough Dark Energon to raise Cybertron's dead?** }- I think it was Arcee that asked.

-{ **And since we don't possess ready means of disabling the Space Bridge, nothing gets in or out!** }- Optimus commanded.

 _Bloody hell! That voice! It just made you want to die for the guy_.

-{ **Well, what are they waiting for?** }- Arcee asked.

-{ **It appears the Decepticons have sustained serious damage to their interstellar navigation system.** }- Optimus informed them after a pause.

-{ **Huh, that's my handiwork.** }- Bulkhead admitted happily.

-{ **Great job, Bulkhead.** }- Optimus congratulated. -{ **Without the dish, Megatron would be unable to aim the Space Bridge at Cybertron.** }-

"Don't the Decepticons know where their own planet is?" Raf asked, confused.

"Naturally," Ratchet scoffed. "But Cybertron is many light years away. To reach their target, their aim must be _astronomically_ precise."

 _Not to mention accurate_ , I mentally added. Trust me, it may not seem like it, but there is a difference between the two. It's something that you learn in chemistry.

-{ **If Megatron went to the trouble of rendezvousing with his Space Bridge, he must have an alternating targeting system. A remote one.** }- Optimus reasoned.

Ratchet huffed. "From what I know of Earth's technology, I doubt there exists a single radio- telescope dish on this planet powerful enough to pinpoint Cybertron."

 _Oh Ratchet, you seriously need to stop underestimating us humans_.

"What about a whole bunch of _linked_ radio-telescope dishes? Like the giant sized array in Texas?" the boy genius enquired, pulling up an image of the dishes.

"Zip- Ep- Ep- Dep- This is not child's play," the medic hushed.

 _Sheesh. Is he always such a control freak?_

-{ **Good thinking, Raf.** }- Optimus congratulated, on the other hand. -{ **Ratchet, have Agent Fowler alert the Array staff to the security hazard.** }-

We all looked to the agent who sat up, briefly muttered some gibberish about a soldier putting on some pants, before promptly passing out again.

I am so glad that I cannot read people's minds; they go to some strange places sometimes.

"That may be a challenge," Ratchet said.

Rafael, however, was trying another approach. "I can't get past the array's firewalls. They're too thick," the kid said frustratedly, slapping the keyboard with his fists.

" _You_ actually think you could keep the Decepticons out?" Ratchet asked almost mockingly.

"Maybe…if I could get in," the bespectacled boy admitted.

"W-way-way- Wait, Raf, what if we could get you _all the way in_?" Jack inquired hopefully. "Like 'inside-the-building' in?"

"I could log into their intern network on the other side of the firewall," the kid admitted hopefully.

Optimus, however, did not approve. -{ **The risk is too great. The Decepticons will be there. Perhaps even on sight.** }-

"Optimus, with all due respect, you said it yourself, this is bigger than the safety of four humans," Jack reasoned.

"Yeah! If we let the 'Cons win, we're fragged, along with everyone else on our planet," Miko added. Since when and where did she learn the word 'fragged'?

"Optimus, there is very little time left. I think you know that," I said stepping in. "And as Miko and Jack were saying, what are a few puny human lives to the Decepticons? You saw what they did to Fowler. If the Decepticons win, it won't be just our lives at stake, but the rest of our entire species. I do not think that any of us present want a repeat of what happened to your homeworld." I refrained from using the name Cybertron though I knew that I had hit a sore spot. "After all," I continued, "In the famous words of Archibald Witwicky, 'Without sacrifice, there can be no victory.' So _please_ Optimus, let us try. Let us do something for our world."

I could hear Optimus sigh defeatedly. Ha, guess that even the great Optimus Prime is no match for the stubbornness of teenagers.

-{ **Raf?** }- He finally asked.

"I wanna give it a shot," the kid said determinedly.

"Good," I said smiling at the kid to let him know he had done the right thing.

* * *

"That'll take some gettin' used to," Jack admitted as we stumbled through the Ground Bridge, feeling a little woozy as we found ourselves on the other side of a fence, next to the facility.

"Guys, follow me and stick close," I told the teens seriously; they all nodded in assent.

Together, we traversed the area, avoiding security cameras before coming to a door. It was locked.

"Now what do we do?" Miko asked.

Examining it, I realized that the door was locked with a simple tumbler lock. "This is almost too easy," I murmured, getting down to work.

All you need to beat a modern tumbler lock is a little information and some Stone Age tools. If you know the basic type of key you need to spoof, pick out a matching blank, file down the valleys to the center ledge and you have a bump key. Apply torque, whack it with anything handy, and you're in. Not quite as much fun as kicking a door down.

"Voilà," I said in French as the door swung open. (There you have it).

* * *

"Security sure is lax in this place," Miko commented offhandedly as she returned from sticking her nose out the door yet again.

Silently, I agreed with the girl, though I would never admit it. It was a little _too_ lax.

"I'm in," Raf said after a minute or two on the computers before gasping. "And so are the Decepticons."

"What?!" Jack exclaimed.

"How can you tell?" Miko asked stupidly.

Meanwhile, I was more focused on the door, listening for someone. There was absolute silence. Something was definitely wrong.

Briefly I head the boy genius explain things to our resident airhead. "Schematics with the same alien math we saw on their ship."

I listened closer but there was still nothing, not even the scuff of shoe or whirrs of machinery in the distance. It should _not_ be this quiet.

"But this time, I can download it."

"It's gotta be the Space Bridge," Miko said.

"The Decepticons are syncing it to the dishes. But I can sync to them," the kid said confidently.

"Will they know?" Jack asked worriedly.

"Even if the Decepticons see that I'm in the system, they have no idea I'm in the house," Raf explained.

A feeling of foreboding settled over me as I strained at the door to hear _anything_.

"They're locked on to Cybertron," Raf suddenly said, drawing my attention for a brief span. "But not for long."

I looked around the room to see a security camera with a red light blinking on it; my face paled. _Not good_.

"The dishes are heading back towards Cybertron. I'll just undo that again," I heard Raf say.

Quickly, I rushed over and set about disabling the camera.

"What happens when the 'Cons realize they're being punked?" Jack asked nervously.

"It's only virtual combat, you know, like online gaming," the kid explained calmly.

"Yeah, Jack, what are the 'Cons gonna do?" Miko mocked as the door behind them slowly opened. "They're probably like a thousand miles away."

"Look out!" I called, drawing a baton and charging as a long tentacle-like claw thing got ready to attack them from behind. I did my best to tackle Miko and Jack out of the way, cutting at the metal appendage to little effect.

"I won't let them lock on again," I could hear Rafael murmur as he continued to typed furiously.

All four of us were thrown against the back wall.

Miko foolishly grabbed the axe from the area on the wall marked 'For Emergencies Only', swinging it around almost drunkenly in an attempt to 'courageously' fend off the purple tentacle-claw thing. Instead, the tentacle knocked her back, also knocking the axe out of her hands.

"You handed it an axe?!" Jack practically screeched, wide-eyed as the claw picked it up.

"Not good," I could hear Raf say.

Courageously, I stepped out in front of the kids, both of my batons drawn and transformed into knives, making it clear that if whatever it was was going to attack my friends, then it was going to have to go through me too.

Instead, the limb feinted, pretending to slash at us as it retracted back out the door.

There was a slam of something heavy next door.

Foolishly, the kids followed, causing me to sigh and follow after them. Better make sure that they aren't killed.

In the next room, stood a tall Decepticon on the roof above the now broken skylight. Getting a look at his long, streamlined features as he turned to face us, he reminded me slightly of Slenderman.

Miko took a picture of the 'Con on her cellphone and I think the Slenderman impersonator did the same of us before transforming and taking off.

"Why is he leaving?" Miko wondered aloud as I walked over to an unconcious man nearby to check if he had a pulse. Thankfully, it seemed that he did.

 _There could be only one reason._

"He cut the hardline," Raf sighed going over to the severed cord. "The dishes are locked on to Cybertron. For good."

* * *

In my chosen line of work, you get to spend a lot of time alone. Whether you're in an Indonesian prison, a cave in the Afghan mountains, or the back of a cargo truck, it comes with the job. You train, or are trained, to make the most of it, plan your next move, go over your intel, review your training, but, when you've cleaned your gun and batons thirty times each, checked and rechecked the rest of your gear twenty times, and reviewed the past tense of every verb in five languages, you start itching to make a move.

"Optimus! I'm registering a rapidly expanding mass in their Space Bridge vortex," I heard Ratchet relay as he looked over the monitors. "One with a peculiar energy signature."

Absently, I noted As Agent Fowler got up to join us, limping along the way. He shouldn't be up, walking about.

-{ **Dark Energon**.}- The Prime finished. -{ **Ratchet, we must destroy the Space Bridge. There's enough live Energon coursing through it to achieve detonation. But we lack the firepower to ignite it.** }-

"If I knew how the Space Bridge was engineered, I might find a tactical way of accomplishing that feat," the medic informed him with little hope in his voice.

"Um, would schematics help?" Raf asked helpfully as I silently ushered Fowler back to bed to check him over.

I figured that I might as well do something useful.

As Ratchet digested the words, I could tell he was torn. "Optimus, I must say, the Space Bridge is our sole hope of ever returning to Cybertron. Are you certain its destruction is the only option?"

-{ **I am afraid so.** }-

"Then by all means let us light our darkest hour," Ratchet agreed wholly.

Why did I suddenly get the feeling that Optimus was about to do something either really heroic or really stupid?

Fowler weakly tried to slap my hand away as I flashed a small flashlight in his eyes to check for proper dilation. All that did was earn him a dark scowl which immediately had him playing a good little patient to Doctor Slade.

-{ **Autobots, take your positions, and follow Ratchet's lead. While I make my stand.** }-

We could all hear Megatrons' raspy voice over the comm. unit. -{ **Your fellow Autobots are wise, Optimus. They know when to retreat.** }-

-{ **I hold no illusions about engaging your army, Megatron.}-** _Yeah you better not idiot!_ -{ **But I might derail its objective by removing its head.** }-

I continued to listen avidly even as I dealt with an unruly patient. Finally, I just gave up and let him be.

-{ **Highly unlikely, Optimus, as I am infused with their very might!** }-

-{ **One shall stand, one shall fall.** }-

I held no illusion that either of them were even attempting to hold back. They seemed to have a rivalry as old as time. Faintly, I could hear the clashing of metal as the two fought.

"These things are getting closer," Fowler said nervously from his position near us on the railing as he watched the little dots on the monitor. "That's bad, right?" Obviously, the agent hadn't fully recovered yet, or at least was still waking up.

-{ **Ratchet, we're in position.** }- Arcee called.

"Arcee, pay close attention," Ratchet instructed.

I however, was focused on the other match. It seemed that sadly, Megatron had caught onto our little scheme. -{ **Ah, misdirection, Optimus? You would have made a fine Decepticon.** }-

-{ **I chose my side.** }- He growled back before the sound of blaster-fire could be heard.

"Now follow the line from the flow regulator to the Energon pump. There should be a valve," Ratchet, meanwhile, continued to carefully instruct the other Autobots.

-{ **I see it.** }- Arcee confirmed.

"Good. To turn all that power against itself, all you need do is reverse the current," Ratchet informed, seemingly with a relish.

Arcee groaned with the strain as she did so then _CLUNK_. -{ **Current reversed.** }-

"Yes! Right?" the befuddled agent asked when we all looked at him like he was losing his marbles.

"I'll ready the Ground Bridge," Ratchet informed them before tapping into Optimus' comm. link. "Optimus, the Ground Bridge is ready and waiting."

-{ **Autobots: Jump!** }-

And then there was silence as the comm. unit cut out.

Intently, we all watched the Ground Bridge; I opted to wait and watch the glowing green vortex from a distance as I always did with things.

"Do you think they're…?" Raf was hesitant to ask.

"Four life signals…one very faint," Ratchet confirmed, trailing off, looking at the life-signal monitors on his arm.

Finally, Optimus was the first to step through. Beat up, scratched and dented, Prime was thankfully alive.

Then another figure stepped through.

"Bulkhead!" Miko shrieked in joy, rushing over and hugging the green bots servo a little awkwardly.

Finally, Bumblebee rushed through, carrying a limp Arcee. That was not a good sign.

Jack ran over looking panicked, as Bumblebee held the blue fem-bot securely; Miko put a comforting hand on the older teens arm and Rafael stood on his other side looking at their friend sadly.

 _Come on Sunshine,_ I found myself thinking. _You're tougher than this_.

"We lost one this week, by the Allspark, don't let it be two," Ratchet prayed as he came over.

Jack stepped over, putting his hand in Arcees' much larger one. "Arcee…"

"Jack, really? There are other motorcycles in the world," she said weakly, opening her optics.

"But you're my first," he said smiling.

"And Megatron?" Ratchet hedged, looking to his leader.

"Not even he could have survived ground-zero," Optimus admitted though he wasn't looking at Ratchet. His eyes seemed to be scanning the area for something.

"Prime!" a familiar voice called though the name wasn't spoken with any of its previous venom. "I didn't get to thank you 'Bots for the save," Fowler said as he put on his jacket before getting into the elevator. "I owe you one. We all do." And the doors closed behind him.

Anyway, with a little help from the yellow bot Arcee was standing again, though still weak; everyone smiled, well everyone except Optimus, but I think he was happy too, he just didn't show it as he continued to scan the area.

Ultimately, Miko was the one to ask the question. "So is this the part where you say 'good-bye' and tell us we need to forget we ever saw you?"

Finally, he seemed to locate what he was looking for: me.

I nodded, flashing him a true smile for once, and it could have been my imagination acting up after this long, tiring day but his optics seemed to brighten a little; I knew that behind his battle mask he was smiling too.

In the end, we both knew what was going to be the answer. For better or worse, our lives had changed indefinitely.

* * *

"Without a means of leaving this world, we Autobots take strength in the bonds we have forged with our four young friends. True warriors. If not in body then in spirit.

"My name is Optimus Prime, and I send this message: though we did not choose to be of Earth, it would seem that we are here to stay.

"If you approach this planet with hostile intent, know this: we will defend ourselves. We will defend humanity. We will defend our home."

I watched from behind his huge figure as he stood on top of base in the sunset, broadcasting his message of hope to the stars. With any luck, it would reach any surviving Autobots out there who were scattered to the cosmos after Cybertron went dark.

No matter what happened, I got the feeling that we were all in for one heck of a ride.

* * *

Dun dun dun!

Well? What do you think? Good? Bad?

I'll admit that I feel like I'm getting a little careless with my writing, but that's probably the result of practically writing nonstop for three days straight.

So any questions? Concerns? Gripes?

Anyway, until next time on the episode: Masters and Students! I wonder what craziness will happen next?

Remember to review please and thank you!


	6. Penny for Your Thoughts?

Hey ya'll I'm back!

I'm just gonna cut to the chase here. I'm sorry if this seems a little dry. I've had a very busy week. But the next chapter gets better. This chapter is mostly about the other's opinions of Aria.

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own Transformers Prime or any other quoted sources that you find in here.

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Penny for Your Thoughts?**

It was just another day at base. Things had gotten a lot calmer since the 'Darkness Rising incident', as Aria had dubbed it, and there had been no visible Deception activity at all since the incident either. In that time, both humans and Autobots had slowly grown closer together, even Aria and Optimus, though their relationship was still leisurely inching its way towards the Friend Zone.

Anyway, currently, Aria was sitting in a corner of base, working on the final adjustments to her science project. The thing was practically finished but Aria was determined to inspect for any mistakes.

Meanwhile, Optimus stood nearby, obviously deep in thought, as he had been for the last quarter-to-an-hour or so; it was a little disturbing how motionless he was. Every once in a while, Aria's grey gaze would flick toward his towering form, only to find that the dust, that had recently settled around him, hadn't even been microscopically disturbed. His metal brows and the corners of his lip components were bent down at a slight angle; his blue optics distant. By this point, his concentration was so deep; Aria had the feeling that if she popped a flare right in front of his face, he wouldn't even notice.

With some difficulty, the blonde forced her attention back to the project before her. The item so far looked like a cruddy, mechanical mess with a slight resemblance to a tinker or jewelers glasses. Later, she would add some screens and scopes and other assorted items and it would look like it was supposed to: a pair of really high-end sniper goggles.

Aria tapped habitually at the old cloth bandage wrapped around her right bicep. To be honest, she could have done this project in her sleep and still would probably get an A. Again, she glanced over at the bot. No change.

Looking around, she noticed another bot doing the same thing; Ratchet and Aria shared a look.

Something was obviously really eating at the bot.

Turning back to the table where the unfinished object sat, she stared at it boredly; a tired sigh escaped her lungs. Tossing the tools back next to the uncompleted item, Aria made little noise as she got up and made her way over to the regal-looking, red and blue bot.

Stopping next to his pede—Ratchet had given her a basic rundown of Cybertronian terms—she tapped it with a glovelette-covered hand. "You're thinking too loudly," she told the Prime bluntly, lips turned downwards as she stared unerringly up at him from her spot. "Penny for your thoughts, Prime?"

Blue optics immediately snapped back to the present, looking down at her; metal brows furrowed in confusion. "I am unsure of what you mean."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes; she'd lost track of the number of times she had done it in the past week or so.

"I mean that there is something obviously on you mind," she said with an imploring look and tone. "And what I mean by 'penny for your thoughts' is that I am willing to pay to listen."

"How did you—?" he began to ask, his micro expressions displaying his slight surprise at her uncanny observations.

"Please, you were so wrapped up in your thoughts, I could have had an entire rave party parade around you, and you wouldn't have noticed," she deadpanned, before adding as almost an afterthought, "And you've been sitting perfectly still for at least fifty minutes."

Optimus vented. But before he could say anything however, Ratchet walked over.

"Optimus, why so glum?" the medic prodded. "This planet—all planets—are finally free from Megatron's tyranny."

Aria watched, almost fascinatedly, as the Primes' face morphed into its usual impassive look, shaking his head a little. "I do not disagree, Ratchet," he said solemnly, though his tone suggested that there was something else.

"'But…'?" Aria prompted.

He vented, sounding somewhere between frustration and hopelessness. "It's just…a small part of me hoped to change Megatron's mind, not extinguish his spark."

Arias' eyes widened in realization. _Ah survivors guilt_.

From the first moment Aria had seen the Decepticon warlord and the leader of the Autobots lock eyes in battle, she knew instantly that they had a long history; the signs were all there if you knew where to look. But more or less in general, they both seemed to treat each other with an equal air of familiarity.

"Optimus, his vileness was not slain by your hand, but by his own twisted arrogance," Ratchet tried reasoning.

 _Oooh, Ratch' bad call_ , she thought as Optimus' face instantaneously got darker; the Prime hummed but said nothing.

Upon realizing the effect of his words, the medic immediately apologized. "I'm sorry. I know the two of you had quite a history," he said quietly.

Aria's eyes briefly lit up in interest, curiosity piqued, but she refrained from asking.

"But the Megatron whom I once fought beside perished eons ago," Optimus said in a grave tone. "The day he chose to become a Decepticon."

 _You mean the day he showed his true colors and betrayed you_ , she mentally corrected, frowning a bit a she picked at the old bandage on her arm and ran a hand delicately over her face, phantom pains ghosting back into existence for a moment before disappearing.

Optimus continued on though, both effectively shaking her out of her thoughts and discreetly changing the subject masterfully. "The Decepticons may be in disarray, but they aren't without leadership. And while Starscream is no Megatron, he is far from predictable."

"Lovely," Aria muttered sarcastically before a small explosion went off across the room, shaking the base slightly.

* * *

—Optimus' POV—

Optimus should have known that something was up when his charge didn't flinch at the explosion. All he heard was her mutter something along the lines of, "I told those idiots…" as Ratchet and himself rushed towards the source of the blast. His medic yelling, "Decepticons! We're under attack!"

He should have known not to worry too much; while his charge had an odd sense of humor like that, she had excellent instincts as well.

Instead of an attack, all they found was the youngest duo coughing and spluttering and trying to wave away the small mushroom cloud of smoke as they looked at the…thing they had built.

"It's no attack Ratchet. It's my volcano," Rafael explained, before glancing back to his ruined project and adding meekly, "Or was."

In another corner, they could see Miko painting this…what was the word? Ah, mobile, with all these round spheres on it as Bulkhead held it up. "Hold still, Bulkhead. Jupiter needs its red spot."

In the background, he could distantly hear Aria scoff a laugh at the mention of the planets' name. Something about "the irony" and "stupider"…or was it "Jupiter"?

"Whoopsie!" the younger girl said as some red paint dripped to the floor accidentally.

Ratchet, however, was not impressed, Optimus could tell. "What in the Allspark is going on here?" the medic seethed, a couple decibels short of yelling.

"Our projects are due tomorrow," Jack explained as he and Arcee worked on his project.

That seemed to make sense. Optimus had also seen Aria tinkering on some kind of device today as well, though he hadn't thought to ask. Now, he faintly wondered what it was that she was working on.

"Maybe it needs one of these doohickeys," the femme wondered, holding up some unknown part.

"You're a motorcycle, Arcee. Shouldn't you know how to build a motorcycle engine?" The black haired boy asked askance.

"You're a human, Jack. Can you build me a small intestine?" the femme retorted.

A muffled snicker across base told him that someone else had heard the retort too.

Looking back to his medic, Optimus almost recoiled in fear in at the look on Ratchets' faceplates. After knowing him so long, Optimus knew that he was dangerously close to throwing wrenches. "Well, you can't work on these projects in here. You're...making a mess!"

"But the science fair is a big part of our grade," Raf reasoned, putting on a pleading look that humans would call the 'puppy-dog eyes'.

"Yeah, if Bulkhead doesn't help me finish this model of our solar system—" Miko began to say.

"Oh? And what does Bulkhead know of your solar system, or Bumblebee of your volcanoes, or—" The medic countered, interrupting her.

"Arcee of our motorcycles?" Jack finished, brow raised.

"Precisely! We're not Earthlings, and they're not scientists."

Looking back, he noticed Aria giving him a look; it clearly said, 'control your guard dog.'

Knowing enough about his charge not to question her word, Optimus stepped in on their human friends behalf. "But the Autobots are their guardians, Ratchet. Would it hurt to learn more of Earth by helping our young friends with their schoolwork?" In the back of the Primes' processor, he was silently pleading not to invoke the medics' wrath; even he was not exempt from Ratchets wrench-throwing fits.

Thankfully, the red and white med-bot simmered down a bit. "Well maybe our young friends should try learning more of Cybertron," he scoffed, walking away.

With the crisis averted, Optimus walked back over to Aria. Her face was once more displaying its usual apathetic mask.

Once again, Optimus found himself wondering about his charge. He was curious about her and her need to keep up that stoic demeanor. He knew so little about her and she was not making it easier to get to know her. Every time he asked her anything personal, she would masterfully shift the conversation onto some other topic; she was very good at _**not**_ mentioning any personal information. And so far, despite his best efforts, Optimus had yet to learn anything particular about Aria except from what he had witnessed her do already. And that still wasn't very much.

He knew that she was very intelligent and creative when it came to certain situations. Not to mention, that even under pressure, she was calm and level-headed.

But she had secrets; he was sure of that.

Today, when she had come to base with him, he had gotten his first good glimpse of what she looked like without the jackets and long-sleeve shirts that she always seemed to wear. Underneath, he could see various impressions of scars littering her arms. Doubtless, there was probably even more covering her back he suspected, though he couldn't be sure with her ruby-red tank top in the way. Also, on her right bicep, there was a cloth bandage wrapped around it. Judging by the grubby and worn look of the thing, the wrapping was obviously old; he wondered why she wore it.

Yet, despite his curiosity, Optimus refrained from asking, getting the sense that she would probably just dodge the question even if he asked. However, he had noticed that she would play with it, tapping the cloth out of a sort of habit or something.

Anyway, maybe one day she would tell him, he hoped. But until then, Optimus decided that he would respect that Aria Slade-Cage had secrets and give her time to trust him enough to maybe tell him one day.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

Mutely, I felt as my lips curled upward as I listened to Bumblebee's and Rafael's conversation in the distance. It was so simple and innocent it was almost cute.

Bumblebee was apparently explaining about the various military classes that they had on Cybertron, to Raf as the boy rebuilt his volcano.

"Really Bumblebee? Then how do you make warrior class?" Raf asked eagerly.

:{ _Well first, you need to be really good at fighting and have a lot of experience_.}: the bot explained

"But I've seen you in action. You're awesome!" the boy reasoned.

The yellow scout just seemed to be embarrassed by the complement.

Also hearing the conversation, Optimus stepped in, laying a large servo on the other bots shoulder, and said, "I second your opinion, Raf. But Autobot lifecycles are much longer than those of humans and though it may be hard to believe, our young scout still has much to experience."

I shot the Autobot scout an encouraging smile when he looked my way, giving him a thumbs-up gesture, which seemed to pleasantly surprise him.

* * *

—Bumblebee's POV—

He blinked in surprise at the encouraging human gesture the grey-opticed girl shot him.

If someone were to ask the Autobot scout what he thought of Optimus' charge, Aria, he would probably give them a very vague answer. She seemed trustworthy enough and pretty smart too—though not like Raf—, but he was still curious about her.

For one, Bumblebee wasn't sure if she could understand him or not like Rafael could. He had seen her cock her head to the side slightly when he talked, and she never got the same confused looks that the other humans got when he spoke either. But he could never be sure.

The yellow scout shook his helm. But that wasn't important. His charge, Raf, on the other servo, was.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

To the side, a bleeping from the monitors drew everyone's attention.

"Exposed Energon, and it's on the move," Ratchet informed the rest of us.

"And since we ain't moving it, guess who must be," Bulkhead said.

"Decepticons," Arcee finished in a growling tone. She seriously hated the 'Cons, didn't she?

Miko, who was standing on the platform overlooking the screens to the side, seemed confused. "Without Megatron?" she asked, bewildered.

Did she seriously think that with Megatron dead, the war would just _POOF_ be over? Seriously, what was it like in her dark, dense little mind all the time?

"Unfortunately, Megatron's legacy will live on as others rise to take his place," Optimus said before turning to his troops. "Autobots, you have projects to complete. Ratchet, I may require aid."

However, the medic looked thoughtfully back at the rest of us. "Science Fair is a big part of their grade," he mumbled.

Uh-oh, why did I suddenly get a bad feeling about this?

"Perhaps I'm better suited to remain behind and advise," he told Optimus.

I got the feeling that Ratchets' definition of the word 'advise' actually meant something akin to 'control.'

Optimus did not blink once. Did he not feel any sympathy for us? Or at the very least, the kids?

"Very well," he said before calling over to the yellow scout. "Bumblebee, let us see about this Energon in transit."

 _Okay, where is that sign I saw earlier that says 'Bang Head Here'? Because I could really use it about now_.

* * *

-Later-

Turns out, I was right. As soon as the leader and scout of the Autobots were out of the picture, Ratchet the Hatchet took over. He wouldn't let us touch our projects. And what I mean by 'us', I really mean 'the kids.' Unlike them, I had already finished my project and safely stowed it away from the megalomaniac's reach.

"Let's see. Where is it?" Ratchet mumbled as he welded this big metal…thing.

"Um, what is it?" Raf asked nervously, as if afraid to ask altogether.

"You'll find out," the bot replied, not taking his optics off his work.

The bespectacled boy however, persisted. "But, Ratchet, shouldn't I be doing the work?"

"E- Yep- Yep- Yap! Don't touch! Just watch and learn."

The other kids tried to help, but I cut them off. "Don't bother. He won't listen. He's too busy with his crazy plans for world domination."

"So we're just gonna go help Jack and Miko finish their—" Bulkhead said nervously, edging away slightly.

"Without my supervision?!" he immediately looked up. "You want them to be _right_ , don't you?"

When no one objected, Arcee and Bulkhead just sharing a wary look, Ratchet then declared, "Then watch a master at work!" He said it all with this slightly crazed look as he waved his welder around.

Okay, while I'm not an easy one to scare, he was seriously freaking me out with that look in his optics. And I'll admit it: Ratchet the Control freak was downright scary.

"Control Freak," Miko muttered and I couldn't help but agree.

Finally though, I shook myself out of my abject horror. Walking away, I said, "Come on, I'll help you guys actually do _your_ projects. Somewhere safe."

* * *

—Ratchet's POV—

Of the Autobots, Ratchet could probably say the most about Aria.

Out of all the humans he had met, her presence wasn't completely unwelcome. Unlike the other children, she did not ask stupid questions and was not overly flamboyant; in fact, she was rather quiet.

When he had first met her, he had thought that she was just another annoying human, sent by some divine force just to give him a processor ache, just like the others of her kind. Instead, she surprised him.

Sure, he was still pissed at her for actually _wrenching him_ , but he also respected her for that, though he would never admit it. No one in his entire career as a medic had _ever_ dared to actually throw a wrench back at him. He was supposed to be the scary medic, known for his terrifying wrench-throwing fits should you disobey one of his explicit orders. Instead, Aria had turned the tables on him. It was a rather intriguing experience to say the least.

Also, he was slightly thankful to her for getting Optimus to come out of his shell more. Indeed, as the oldest friend to the Autobot leader, he had noticed how the girl seemed to have a slight influence over the Prime, however minor it may have seemed. He even swore he saw Optimus almost _smile_ once when the girl was around. That in itself was an accomplishment.

Her other accomplishments hadn't gone unnoticed by the medic either.

—Flashback—

It was just after the other bots had first taken the human children home. Ratchet was still angry at Bulkhead and that annoying light-haired human girl for messing with his tools.

The former had first crushed one of his tools that he actually needed.

Then the latter had probably messed it up even more. The girl had even snapped at him and hurled a wrench at his helm.

He rubbed the new dent in his helm gingerly. Slag it hurt. Is this what it felt like to the other bots to have one of his wrenches thrown at their helms?

Recalibrating his pain sensors, Ratchet looked over at the tool that the human had set there for his inspection. Despite his own cynical opinion, Ratchet picked what remained of the tool anyway and examined it; he almost dropped it in shock though.

While the human femme had admitted to not knowing a thing about what she was tinkering with, Ratchet was surprised to find that it was in excellent repair, probably better than when he had first gotten it. It was an almost pleasant surprise.

Maybe he would let her work on his broken equipment from time to time.

—Flashback End—

Despite his thankfulness to the rather intelligent girl, do not get him wrong; she still irked him. From her first comment about his attitude to her other rather rude comments pointed in his general direction, she still was annoying, just not as annoying as the others.

Finally, there was also the matter of her nickname for him: Hatchet. Before Earth, he had known only two other bots who had dared to call him that: the former gladiator twins turned Autobot front liners, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, also known as the Terror Twins. Those two had practically made it their lives' work to prank and annoy him to no end. They were also the first to originally come up with the nickname 'Ratchet the Hatchet' for him.

And if they were here on Earth…Primus have mercy on him.

Now with Aria calling him that, Ratchet prayed to Primus that she did not turn out like them. Of course, with her obvious intelligence and snark, the medic would not put it past her.

* * *

—Arcee's POV—

Arcee mostly put up with Aria for Jacks' sake. She did not hate the girl exactly, but she didn't like her either, especially after the girl had given her the nickname 'Sunshine'.

But, if not for Jack, Arcee did it only out of respect to a fellow warrior. She had not been blind to the humans' actions during their first encounter. Despite being a small, easily squished, human, the blonde-haired girl had fought off a Decepticon valiantly.

During the war on Cybertron, Arcee had learned that a fight was most often a way to tell you about someone because behavior in a combat situation is unpredictable. Sometimes trained soldiers go screaming for the hills. Sometimes bots who've never fired anything bigger than a cap gun turn out to have ice in their veins. Nobody knows.

But during that fight, Arcee had learned that Aria was one of the few humans who had enough courage to stand in the face of fear. That was what a true warrior was.

* * *

—Bulkhead's POV—

While he didn't exactly hate her, Bulkhead was wary of the intelligent girl, Aria. Partially it was because of how she treated Miko, or _didn't_ treat her, he should say. Aria mostly ignored Miko, giving her the cold shoulder, but Bulkhead had seen the glares the light-haired girl had shot Miko when she said things. Granted, a majority of the things that Miko said weren't all that smart.

But that was not Bulkheads' main issue with the girl. Largely, it was her indifferent demeanor that put him off. It was both familiar and disconcerting.

It reminded him a lot of his days with the Wreckers. They were always cold and distant towards other bots, a lot like Aria was, but it was because they were such a close knit group and that made losing one of their own tough on all of them.

Thinking of Aria and the Wreckers, Bulkhead wondered offhandedly if he was ever like that with the Wreckers.

* * *

—Rafael's POV—

Though he would never admit it to anyone else—except maybe Bee—Rafael was slightly scared of Aria. At school, he noticed that she was always very aloof and standoffish with other people. Her cold detachment always made her seem almost…unapproachable to the boy.

After meeting the bots, he thought that maybe she would open up a little more, but instead, she just seemed more distant if possible. Even, Jack, who he thought would be closest to her, seemed to be kept out as well. But oddly enough, despite all that, the other boy was still willing to trust her. Raf wondered if she was always like this because it didn't exactly make any sense for Jack to trust the girl so much.

When they had decided to rescue Miko, Raf learned that while the girl actively shut people out, she did not completely hate them as she seemed to. That realization alone made her seem more human and less withdrawn to him; now she just seemed indestructible to him with the way she fought the Decepticons so courageously in their first encounter and defended the others and himself at the Texas Satellite Array Facility.

In that moment, Raf had decided that while he was still wary of the girl, he would trust her like Jack did. Giving her a little trust was the least he could do for her. Give he the benefit of the doubt right?

* * *

—Miko's POV—

Ever since Miko had first really met Aria, instead of just being aware of her in school, she had decided that she more or less disliked the older girls' guts. She always seemed to treat her with a, as the Americans' called it, 'holier than thou' attitude. And the flaxen haired girl was so boring, not the stereotypical ditzy-blonde kind of boring, but she was just so annoyingly quiet with an attitude that would ruin most parties.

Of course, while she would never admit it to herself or anyone else, Miko was secretly jealous of Aria. When she had first come to Jasper, Miko had been witness to something spectacular that Aria had done and made her come to Miko's attention.

—Flashback—

Miko had just completed the first boring day of American high school, being introduced to every class as 'the foreign exchange student from Japan'. Everyone had seemed rather surprised. Apparently, Jasper was not known for having anything interesting or exciting ever happening.

Anyway, Miko had just exited the school building when she saw a large crowd of kids out in front, gathered around something. Then she heard the chanting.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!"

Miko immediately perked up. Maybe something interesting would finally happen today.

Pushing her way through the crowd, Miko came just out on the sidelines of the circle and saw a burly brunette boy with a cocky grin on one side and a girl with long blonde hair standing casually on the other side, looking bored.

"What's a matter Scar-Face? Your mommy and daddy not like saying that they have a reject for a daughter?" the boy jeered, smirking.

' _Scar-Face'_? Miko wondered, before looking more closely at the girls' face and understanding. On her left eye there were three parallel scars running over it like an animal had clawed at her face, another scar ran perfectly from one cheekbone to the other, and finally, there was one running down across the right side of her lips, going down to her chin. From the looks of it, someone had wiped away the makeup that had been covering the gruesome, and frankly terrifying, injuries.

The girl did not show any reaction to the jab at her features, just frowned a little.

"Is that all Andre? Because if it is, then we're done here. I didn't come here to listen to your bad attempts at insulting me," the grey-eyed girl said boredly but loudly enough for everyone to hear.

A chorus of 'oh's' was heard from the crowd.

The guy, Andre, features immediately twisted in a snarl.

"What did you say slut?" he growled.

The girls' features darkened slightly at the word 'slut', but she did nothing except to continue to rile the other guy up. "Oh, I'm sorry. So apparently, you need to get some hearing-aids along with that haircut and bitch attitude."

Apparently the boy had had enough of the girls' insults. Without warning he charged at her; the girl simply stood still. Then at the last moment, the girl sidestepped him, sending him tumbling face-first into the dirt.

The girl clapped mockingly, an unnerving smirk on her face. "Congratulations, it takes skill to trip over flat surfaces."

The crowd and Miko roared with laughter.

The boy, who was getting up again, turned bright red in anger. With another silent snarl, he leapt at her, now turned and exposed, back. Instead of being tackled to the ground like Miko thought she would be, the scarred girl whipped around, crouched and delivered a sound punch to the guys' stomach. The bully's eyes bugged almost comically as he began to fall the floor, wind knocked out of him. But 'Scar-Face' didn't let him go down like that. Instead, she caught his arm and kicked at this spot on his legs that effectively made him lock up in pain, knees going out from under him as she twisted Andres' arm behind him, causing the guy to make a strangled, choking sound of pain; the entire thing happening in less than a minute.

Then Miko watched as the victor of the fight then leaned down to whisper something in the guy's ear; Andre nodded frantically to whatever the blonde had said and she released him.

Of course, by now, the fight had attracted the schools staffs' attention and Miko could see some teachers tearing their way through the crowd to the center. But when Miko looked back, the scar-faced girl was gone.

—Flashback End—

That day, Miko had effectively been awed by Aria's ability to fight. She had made the other guy look like a preschooler in that fight and all the other fights she had had with other people since. No matter the challenger, Aria always won and effectively earned a reputation as undefeated that made most other people back off. Of course, there was always the upstart punk that challenged her occasionally, but they were always sent home crying, sometimes literally.

That's what made Miko jealous of Aria. She could take on any challenge and come out on top. And no matter how dire the situation was, Aria handled them with ease and grace. Not to mention that people actually _listened_ to the other girl; they rarely listened to Miko the way they listened to Aria.

But Miko was determined. On day, she hoped that people would listen to her like they did Aria 'Scar-Face' Slade-Cage.

* * *

—Jack's POV—

Jack loved Aria like an older sister. How could he not? He'd known her ever since he was little.

—Flashback—

Jack was nine years old at the time, almost ten. He had gotten lost at the park and was now wandering around Jasper to try and find his mom. Of course instead, he had wandered way too far for him even to remotely find his way home. Now he regretted even leaving his mom's sight for even a second. He had just wanted to see what the other, bigger kids were doing in the trees at the edge of the park.

Now little Jack was lost and it was getting darker out, and like any kid knew, when it got darker out, the bad people came out; Jack felt scared as he continued to wander the darkened streets.

"Mommy?" he called out for the umpteenth time to no avail. "Mommy?"

Too late, Jack did not realize where he was going and tripped on the uneven sidewalk, tumbling into the road. He looked up as a bright light flooded his vision, blinding him; but he could hear. A loud car horn sounded and all Jack could do was try to shield his eyes in the harsh light.

All of a sudden, a warm hand gripped his arm and pulled him out of the way, just as the car sped by.

"Geez, kid. Were you trying to get yourself killed?" a slightly accented voice asked him from the side.

Jack whirled around, only to almost jump out of his skin. There, holding his arm with a stern expression on her face, was a blonde-haired girl probably only a couple years older than him. She had these scars over her eye and on her nose and corner of her mouth. And she looked kinda intimiating with the scary face she was making and all those scars.

"It's rude ta stare boug," she glared, saying the last word oddly. (Boy).

Of course, then his brain decided to kick in and he started to struggle. "Let me go! Mommy! Mommy!" he screeched.

The girl just rolled her eyes and clapped a hand over his mouth, effectively muffling his cries. "Good lord enfant! Don't be such a couillon! I'm not gonna hurt ya!" (Child) (Fool/imbecile/stupid).

Finally, Jack fell into silence, and the girl looked relieved.

"T'ank god! Now I'm gonna remove my hands and you're _not_ gonna scream or run away. 'Kay?" she said slowly in her funny accent, looking him directly in his eyes.

Slowly, he nodded and she cautiously pulled both her hands away.

Of course, remembering all those stranger danger classes from school, Jack did the exact opposite; as soon as he was loose, Jack began to run as fast as he cold away from the scary girl.

"Wha ta—? I just said—Enfant stupide!" (Foolish/stupid child).

Jack could hear her right behind him so he pushed himself harder, diving into alleys and taking many other twists and turns. Finally, he couldn't hear her behind him anymore, so he stopped, panting hard, and turned around checking to make sure.

"Hey kid…you lost?" another voice asked, giggling slightly. Following the source of the voice, Jack spun to face a tall man. He easily towered over Jack and would probably even tower over his mom too. He had a messy brown mop of hair, and the man's eyes seemed slightly unfocused as they looked at him. The man giggled again, hiccuping a little, and Jack's nose wrinkled at the man's bad smell.

"What's…a matter…kid?" the creepy guy slurred taking a stumbling step forward. The way he was looking at him was really starting to scare Jack. "I don't bite…why don't you come here? Good ol' Brandon can help you." He took another menacing step towards Jack, and the boy backed up even more, eyes darting around for an escape route.

"N-no t-thanks m-mister," he said nervously while trying to sound brave. "M-mommy told me not to t-talk to strangers."

"Where… is she then? Are you…lost?" the man snickered, stumbling forward again.

For a second time that night, a hand gripped Jack's arm and pulled him away. Blinking, he belatedly realized that it was the girl from before, and she had just pulled him behind her. She was glaring at the man with a hard look, her posture reminding Jack of one of the stray cats he had seen before, right before it had caught a bird.

"Back off connard," she snarled. "Leave ta kid alone." (Asshole).

"Well aren't you cute sweetheart," the man mocked. "This your little brother?"

"Leave him alone," she growled. "I'm warning you."

While he didn't exactly trust either of them, Jack felt safer with the odd-talking, scary girl as she valiantly tried to shield him.

"'I'm warning you'," the guy mocked continuing to step towards them. "That's real cute sweetie."

What happened next seemed all a blur to Jack. One second the creepy guy was stalking towards them as the girl tried to protect him, the next they were both a whirl of dark shapes. The girl pushed Jack to the side just as the man lunged at them, tackling the girl to the ground. He had her by the throat, slowly suffocating the girl as he pinned her with his body. Jack watched in frozen horror as the girl gasped, clutching at the man's hand, trying to pry him off. Then suddenly, she changed tactics, kicking the guy in the solar plexus and then using his pain to loosen his grip on her throat slightly and _bite_ his hand hard. The smelly guy immediately backed off, howling in pain as he clutched his now bleeding hand. Rolling, the girl fumbled with something on the ground. Behind her, the scary man was starting to recover and was glaring daggers at the blonde's back. Jack wanted to cry out to her as the guy went for her again. Then suddenly, _CRACK!_ The man slumped to the ground as the girl held a rusted pipe in her hand. The man did not move as the girl stood over him, panting hard.

Finally, tossing the pipe away, she turned back to Jack and kneeled in front of him. "Hey, ya alright?" she asked softly.

Eyes wide and tearful, he nodded quietly and she smiled softly at him offering him a hand.

"Come on, whaddya say about getting you home?"

Cautiously, Jack eyed her hand before slowly reaching out and grasping it. With ease, she pulled him to his feet and hauled him onto her back, giving him a piggy back ride.

"Oh, I never introduced myself. My name's Aria by ta way. Wat's yours?"

"J-Jack," he managed to stutter out.

—Flashback End—

From that moment on, Jack had always looked up to Aria and went to her for support. Sure, her stoic demeanor would put off most people, but unlike them, he knew that she wasn't like that deep down. Even after she got rid of her accent and disappeared every so often on one of her little 'trips', coming back with various injuries at times, he knew she was still the same. She just had trouble showing her emotions and trusting people with them.

But even after knowing her for seven plus years, he still didn't know much about her past. All he knew was that it was rather dark enough that she refused to talk about it to anyone, keeping those secrets locked away with her emotions. But her respected that about her, though he still found himself curious still from time to time.

Still, he sometimes wished that she would open up to people more often. It couldn't be healthy having only a list of people she trusted that you could count on one hand.

But that was Aria for you: complete with trust issues, odd tendencies and a major paranoia. He'd even caught her a couple times drawing these strange scenes when he was little.

Then of course there were her little 'trips'. Ever since he had first met her, she had been disappearing at random moments to go on these road trips to who-knows-where. The first time she had done it, she had nearly scared Jack to death, coming back a little worse for wear. After the first couple times, he finally got used to it but he still wondered where she went and what she did. No matter how hard he had tried, he still had not gotten a straight answer out of her about them.

But one good thing about hanging around her, Jack had begun to be able to recognize the signs that showed that she was about to disappear, and it was gonna happen soon. Jack just hoped that she would actually _tell_ someone this time instead of just pulling a random disappearing act without telling anyone and causing a panic among the bots. He would have to remind her later about it. Hopefully, she would actually listen and remember this time.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

-Next Day-

When we pulled into base, Ratchet was waiting for us.

"Aha-ha-ha! There you are," Ratchet greeted us as we pulled in, a slightly power-hungry look in his optics. "Well? How were my—Uh, our projects received?"

We all exchanged glances before I gathered enough of my courage to step forward and tell him what had happened. " _Our_ projects went fine Hatchet; we all got A's. _Yours_ however are sitting comfortably on one of my friends' 'Best-Left-Forgotten' shelf overseas.

Ratchet blinked.

"What?!" he screeched when he finally comprehended what I had just said. "On our planet, you would have been awarded the highest honors."

"Well this isn't your planet so suck it up buttercup!" I snarled back. "I almost lost a finger to that thing you gave Jack."

Probably knowing that I wouldn't back down anytime soon, Ratchet threw his servos up into the air and walked away, muttering, "Absolutely no gratitude" and "See if I help them."

The others around me just sagged a little in relief, releasing their pent up breaths.

:{ _Well at least they were smart enough not to listen to Ratchet._ }: Bee said.

"Indeed Bumblebee. Our human friends were wise to stray from Ratchet's path," Optimus agreed smiling slightly. Then of course he was foolish enough to look in my direction; his smile immediately melted at the look of pure anger on my face.

Smartly, Jack dove for cover, pulling Miko and Raf with him and gesturing for the other, confused bots to do the same. He knew what was going to happen to the Prime; Mount Aria was about to blow.

"Optimus Prime! You knew didn't you?!" I roared accusingly at the Autobot leader, causing him to take a nervous step back. He should be because an angry Aria is a scary Aria.

"I do not—" he began, holding up his servos in a placating gesture, only to be cut off.

"Don't you dare play innocent with me!" I snarled, marching up to him as everyone else took a couple steps back. "You _ever_ do that again and I will _personally_ make you regret it. Next time you give us a heads-up. Do I make myself clear?!" By now, Optimus was backed up into a wall and I was directly in front of him.

Quickly, he nodded, almost frantically.

Satisfied, I huffed before walking off. He should have told us about Ratchet being such a control freak. Not after the fact.

In the distance, I heard Jack ask meekly, "Are we still alive?"

* * *

-Later, Nighttime, Aria's Auto Shop-

As soon as Optimus was long gone, I rushed into action grabbing what I needed from around my shop, mentally checking this off my list as I threw them into my car.

Yes, I have a car. I don't always drive a motorcycle around Jasper. It's an old '73 Dodge Charger that I fixed up a few years back. Not really my style personally but it gets me around.

Anyway, thinking back on it, I know that it was probably wrong to sneak off without telling anyone. But I seriously needed to get out of Jasper for a while. Not only was I going a little stir-crazy, but I had put this trip off for long enough. I needed to get certain things done that only certain people in other states could do and were willing to do for me.

Making sure one last time that I had everything, I finally pulled the car out front, switched off the lights in the shop, and locked the doors before speeding away into the night.

Hopefully the bots wouldn't freak out too badly.

* * *

Finally! Something big is going down! But why is she leaving?

But guess what peeps? Next chapter we get a big look into Aria's life. Whoohooo! I bet everyone here is dying to know.

Any questions? Concerns? Gripes?

Review, please and thank you!


	7. Welcome to Miami

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime, Burn Notice, or any other quoted sources.

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Welcome to Miami**

—The Day after Aria Leaves, Optimus' POV—

By now, he was thoroughly 'freaking out' as the humans say. Aria had not been at her shop waiting for him like she usually did when he went to take her to base. For over an hour, he had waited, but she still hadn't shown up.

While he knew full well that Aria could take care of herself, he feared the worst for his charge. Where was she? Had the Decepticons captured her?

"Optimus to base," he called. "Has anyone recently had any contact with Aria?"

* * *

—Base, Jack's POV—

-{ _ **Has anyone recently had any contact with Aria?**_ }- Jack heard Optimus ask over the bases' communications link.

For a moment, Jack just blinked before cursing under his breath, drawing everyone's attention. "I thought…I _told_ her…" Jack sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, a habit he had picked up from Aria. Finally, he looked up and said loudly so Optimus could hear him, "Optimus just…come back to base. Aria's fine…I'll explain later when you get back."

* * *

"Wow." Was all that Miko managed to mutter for them all when Jack explained the circumstances of his surrogate older sisters' little 'road trips'.

"You act like it's no big deal. Are these road trips common with her or something? Because if it was either of my parents, they'd be freaking out about now."

Jack just shrugged. "After the first couple of disappearances, I guess you just get used to it."

"W-wait you mean she's done this before?" Raf asked incredulously.

Jack nodded.

"So where is she then?" Bulkhead asked.

Jack just shrugged again. "Don't know. She just leaves. No note, no warning, then she just pops back up, acting like it's nothing. She's never told me," he explained casually. "Don't worry too much though. Knowing her she'll be back in a few days," Jack told them.

"Well just to be sure, maybe I should−" Raf began, reaching for his phone, but seeing this, Jack merely sighed.

"Don't bother Raf. There's no point. She won't pick up anyway. Trust me I've tried before. It goes to voice mail all the time."

After a moment of contemplated silence, Optimus finally spoke-up, "And what of her parental units? Surely they must have something against this?"

Jack gave the Prime a funny look. "Honestly, now that I think of it, she doesn't really mention them." He looked puzzled for a moment before shaking his head. "Anyways, like I said, don't worry too much Optimus. This isn't the first time she's pulled one of these stunts. She'll eventually pop back up one way or another, acting for all the world as if nothing's happened." Jack paused, seeming to think something over. "Also, don't be too surprised when she doesn't tell you anything or just gives you vague answers, if you ask her."

And that was the end of that, though Jack did notice that Optimus had an undecipherable expression on his face at the end of his explanation. _Poor Optimus._

* * *

—Two Days Later, Night, Aria's POV—

 _Finally, made it_ , I thought as I pulled up to a slightly ransacked looking building in Miami, Florida.

Now you're probably wondering 'What the hell is Aria doing in Miami?' And I will tell you this: it is not for the beach; that factor holds no sway over me. Most people would be thrilled to be in Miami. Sadly, I'm not most people. Spend a few years as doing what I do and a sunny beach just looks like a vulnerable tactical position with no decent cover. Not to mention that I've never found a good way to hide a gun—or any other weapon for that matter—in a bathing suit.

Anyway, by now, thanks to the 42 hour long drive it took to get here, it was officially dark out and there was now long line of people blocking the metal gate to my building, trailing from the club next door.

I seriously did not want to deal with this right now, especially after my long and stressful two day drive; the control over my temper was already starting wearing thin after having to lose a FBI tail that had tried to follow me on the way here. Currently, my fist was continually clenching and unclenching with the fierce need to hit something. Under my skin, blood boiled in my veins, but I withheld. It would not do to hit some random person just because I felt cranky.

Parking my vehicle and shutting it off, I made my way over, shoving past people in the line to get into the gate, without so much as an 'excuse me'. Luckily, I got through with little trouble. On the other side of the barrier though, I was met with another pretty gruesome sight: a couple practically snogging each other's brains out on the stairs that led up to my place.

Loudly as possible, I cleared my throat, and reluctantly, the two, obviously high, people pulled apart.

"Oh, sorry man, we got carried away waiting on Sugar," the guy said.

' _Carried away'? Yeah that's an understatement. Few seconds later and even I would be hesitant to interrupt._

Instead of voicing those thoughts though, I simply raised a brow. "Sugar?" I had heard of my new neighbor but _Sugar_? Seriously?

"Yeah, I don't know his real name but uh- he usually hooks us up. We wanted to score some weed. Hey, are you the new girl?" he inquired, getting his facts wrong in his less than lucid state of mind.

The guy looked like he wanted to say more but I cut him off. "Leave." They just looked at me stupidly. " _Now._ " At the hard look on my face, they immediately skedaddled, shooting me wary looks over their shoulders.

Tiredly rubbing the bridge of my nose, I started climbing the stairs, just wanting the comfort of my dark home for now. I was not in the mood to deal with my drug-dealer neighbor or anyone right now. All I wanted to do was face-plant into my bed.

* * *

—Next Day—

You can't choose your sources for specialized goods. They could be the Russian mafia, illegal arms dealers, or the guy who lives under his grandmother and mothers shouty regime and plays _Dance Dance Revolution_ with his cousin.

Pulling up to the quaint little house in my black Charger, I eyed the building before getting out. Thankfully, my contact seemed to be home. But that may be because I didn't call ahead to give him a heads-up and give him time to book it out of there.

Steeling myself, I marched up to the front door and knocked.

Less than a minute later, a balding African American guy answered the door.

Glenn Whitmann: expert hacker and computer hardware technician and also a colossal dork. He and his girlfriend, Maggie Madsen, were my go-to-people for a majority of my computer techie problems and other related items, such as designing specific new toys for me.

"Howdy Glenn. Mind if I come in?" I asked, greeting him cheerily before pushing past him as I waltzed in anyway.

"I— Eb— Deb— What—Ari! No this is my private area. My place of Zen and peace!" The man spluttered.

I turned to him giving the man a hard look. "Look, Glenn, I really need yours and Maggie's help with something. Is she here too?"

Before he could respond however, a cranky woman's voice called from somewhere in the house, asking—though more like demanding—Glenn who was at the door. It was probably his mother or grandma.

"Shut up Grandma!" he yelled back before turning back to me. "What are you doing here?"

"Well that's a fine hello," I commented. "Look Glenn I need your expertise on something."

Before more could be said, however, more shouting between the two family members ensued. It was a typical occurrence when you were at Glenn's house, though it did get a bit tedious at times. "Grandmamma, get your prune-juice!" he yelled back as we both ran for the cover of his bedroom.

Honestly, Glenn's 'room' resembled more of a broom closet, but I wasn't complaining too much because Maggie was there too.

Maggie Madsen: Glenn's girlfriend and fellow hacker. She was a beautiful, blonde Australian girl who worked for the CIA as a data analyst mostly. Of the couple, she was the braver one by far.

"Aria!" she greeted happily. "It's so good to see you. What are you doing here?"

Of course, once again, I was interrupted. This time by Glenn and his cousin, Marty, who were both crazily grooving to some kind of game. Honestly, they acted like ADHD toddlers on Redbull sometimes.

"I have an important favor that I need from you and Glenn," I managed to convey to her over the noise.

She nodded in understanding before going over and whispering something in her hubby's ear. Immediately, he froze, before pausing the game and turning to his cousin. "Hey, hey, I just paused it. Look I need a moment alone okay? Please."

His cousin gave him one of those kicked puppy looks, but eventually, Marty took the polite command to get out of Glenn's room with stride.

Finally, he was gone and the two hackers gave their full attention to me.

"So how big is this 'favor' you want from us?" Maggie asked.

Pulling out a small mechanical object about the size of a 55mm bullet, I placed it on Glenn's desk gingerly. "I need you two to come up with a special techie virus that will meet these specifications and put it all into that device," I told them both cautiously, handing Glenn the slip of paper with the outlines for the virus I had in mind.

I watched as both read over the small list, Maggie reading over Glenn's shoulder. Slowly, both their faces morphed, showing the varying degrees of their slight misgivings as to what my favor entailed.

Unsurprisingly, Glenn was the first one to voice his opinions when he finished. "What the—Aria, are you insane? Do you know what kind of work this will take? An _adaptable_ virus? That isn't even possible! And—"

"Wait! Glenn what if we…" she then began to speak in a complex computer techie lingo that I don't think even Raf would understand, explaining to her cowardly boyfriend how they could work do this and that and get certain parts to work together and such. At least, that's what I think she was saying; she lost me after the word 'we'.

Slowly, Glenn started to look thoughtful, nodding his head and responding in kind to what Maggie was saying in their super secret computer techie language. Eventually, their argument/debate seemed to come to a stop with Maggie grinning victoriously as Glenn seemed to slump slightly in defeat.

"Alright….But what if someone traces this back to me?" he asked.

Thankfully, I had anticipated this question. "Don't worry. This will only be a one-time deal kind of thing I'm thinking about. More of a 'just in case of emergencies' kind of contingency, and even then, this will be a big 'If' if I can even manage to plug it into the system I'm targeting. Besides, the people who I plan on using it against will have more pressing concerns if this works, and even then, they'll be chasing after me, not you two."

By now, I could tell that the man's resolve was crumbling; it just needed one more push in the right direction and I would be golden. "Please Glenn? I really, really need it," I pleaded with the hacker, my pride now in ruins. "I am willing to pay a hefty amount for this, Glenn," I tempted, leisurely piling the stacks of cash in front of him for temptation.

"What about my—"

"Your video games can wait. Please Glenn. It's _important_. Lives could be at stake when I need it the most."

The man before me fell silent, considering the request.

"Fine. I'll do it," he gave in.

"Thank you—"

"On one condition."

 _Uh-oh_. "I'm listening."

The two hackers shared a look, practically conveying their thoughts to each other. Whatever, it was seemed to be causing looks of concern and worry.

Finally, the Australian woman spoke. "See, it's an old friend of ours, Laura. These people came over to her house with some kind of scam. They got all of her bank-account numbers. They took everything that she has. And they beat her up, Aria. She's terrified."

Glenn took over from there, placing a comforting arm around his girlfriend. "We tried everything we could to track them down but…"

"Let me guess," I said. "Everything was fake?"

They nodded.

"Well, what am I supposed to do?"

"Well, you'll think of something," Maggie said quickly. "She lives right across the street. You could go there now."

Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I sighed but got up anyway. "I talk to your friend, and then we talk about that virus?"

All I got in reply were some victorious smiles.

* * *

—Laura's House—

"Thank you so much for coming. When Glenn and Maggie said they knew someone who could help me, I was so relieved," the red-headed, older woman rambled as she led me into her home. Thankfully, it did not smell like a typical old persons home.

"Well, what happened exactly?" I questioned, shutting the door and sitting down across from her.

"I got a letter about a month ago, uh, said I'd won a prize; one of those magazine things," she told me. "I called, and they congratulated me, said they had to send some people over to fill out some tax forms." By now, the slight bruising on the left side of her face seemed to look even more gruesome as her expression fell, her eyes starting to glisten with unshed tears.

"And they came over and…" I prompted gently.

"There were two men and a woman. They were in such a hurry to get my information, credit cards, bank accounts," she continued, breathing deeply and dabbing at her eyes with an already battered-looking tissue. "I got nervous, and I asked them to leave. I tried to call the police, and…they hit me…broke my arm," she sniffled gesturing to her left appendage which was wrapped in a white cast. "I checked my bank account. It's all gone. It's all I had."

As Laura cried woefully, dabbing at her eyes, I knew immediately that I was already going to do all I could to help this woman.

Ill-equipped as to how to best comfort the crying woman, I softly asked her, "Uh, do you have anything that– Uh– Do you have a description of them?"

If I could get a description of them, then maybe I could have a chance at finding these people.

"Oh, I'm not very good at that sort of thing," she admitted croakily, causing me to resist the urge to groan. "The main one, he was good-looking, blonde. The other two were just regular, with brown hair."

"'Regular looking with brown hair'?" I mused quietly. It wasn't much to go on, but it was something to start with.

Then a lightbulb seemed to go on above Laura's head. "I have the prize letter," she added helpfully, getting up with a slight struggle, despite my offers to help. "My son wants to put me in a home now. Thinks I can't be trusted," she told me mournfully as she came back, handing me the slip of paper over.

Noiselessly, I scanned the document, holding it up to the light and such to check for watermarks and the like. Despite the end results, like what happened to Laura, it looked pretty legit. Finally though, I folded it back up and turned back to the older woman. "Uh, I'll see what I can do. I'm gonna need to borrow this, okay?"

Still crying, she managed to nod before revolving into a fresh bout of tears.

"I should go," I said awkwardly, eyeing the door. "I'm gonna go."

* * *

—Later, Bar—

"So you're helping old ladies now? Good for you, Aria. Hey, I saw a kitten up a tree on my way over here," Sam teased with a cocky smirk.

Samuel Axe: or Sam as he liked to be called. A former Navy SEAL in his mid-forties, who has had occupations ranging from Navy SEAL to Military Intelligence operative. He was a good friend of mine (possibly even one of my closest). Often times, he has served as both a father-figure to me and a moral compass. However, with his espionage days behind him, he now has become a laid-back slacker that mooches off every rich divorcée in the greater Miami area, bouncing between sugar mommies, and drinking heavily at times. However, even though he appears to be nothing more than a wash out, his long range of careers and operations has ensured a long list of "connections". Not to mention that he still has his expertise intact, and he's also very loyal to those he considers friends.

"They beat her up, took her life savings," I told him. "You in or not?"

"Well, when you put it that way…What can I say? What's the plan?" he asked.

I pulled out the phony certificate Laura had given me and showed it to him. "The address and phone number are fake; but the printing, the foil embossing. There can't be more than one place in Miami that does that kind of work."

"Sounds good," he thankfully agreed. Hopefully, he would still be on board when I told him this next bit.

"Uh, listen, the money on this one will be a little thin."

"Well, it's a public service," Sam concurred before getting an idea. "Hey, how about a trade? I had a little…disagreement with the lady friend I was staying with, and I could use a place to crash."

"Three days."

The chestnut-haired man made a face. "I was thinking more like a week. Aria, look, I can sweeten the pot on this," Sam begged. "If I'm staying with you, the feds will be off of your back. I'll just tell them that I'm babysitting you."

The thought of my little FBI tail made me internally cringe. Sam was supposed to be informing them of what I do because they had Sam's pension or whatever it was, tied up so to speak. Of course I already knew about it and was okay with it, just so long as he told them just enough but not everything.

"Five days, you bring a sleeping bag, and you're out by the weekend?" I enquired.

"Done."

* * *

—Aria's Place—

Life seems to enjoy royally screwing with me. After we went over and got Sam's stuff, I met my new neighbor; Sam was out back, parking the Charger and getting his stuff since he insisted on carrying it up himself.

"What's up bro? You new around here?" the bleached blonde guy asked.

"No, not really," I replied offhandedly, determinedly not looking at him so as not to encourage conversation.

Sadly, he did not take the hint. "Well, my name is Sugar. And I heard you messed with some of my friends last night."

"I asked a few of your customers to get out of here, yeah."

Rudely, he got up in my face, his tanned skin looking red in contrast to his platinum-colored hair. "What's your problem?"

"My problem right now is a pretty-boy drug dealer with a bad dye job that's standing in my way," I told him straight up, not caring if I hurt his feelings.

He grabbed my arm as I attempted to go around him. It was the one with the bandage; I hissed slightly, disliking being touched on that arm.

"Whoa, did I hurt you, bro?" he mocked, mistaking the sound for one of pain.

Doesn't matter how much training you have. An old injury and the reminders that come with it will always be just that; an old injury and bad memories.

Sugar pulled me up to face him. "Don't start fights you can't finish, bro!"

In answer, I grabbed his hand from my shoulder and twisted it back, forcing him to go down in pain lest he break his arm.

"I'll break it," I growled down at him. "I don't want to, but I will if I have to _bro._ "

The man did not hold up long against the threat of pain. "All right, all right! All right, let go! Let go! Let go!" Without so much as a second thought, I released my hold on him and continued on my way, letting him scamper away like the pathetic little hood-rat he was.

Of course, life continued to mess with me.

When I made it up the stairs and got to the entrance my house (if you could call it that), the previously locked door swung open without any force, indicating that someone had broken in. Immediately, my senses went on alert as I creeped inside, scanning the area, only to find that my 'burglar' was still there, sitting on my bed and making herself right at home.

"Hello, Aria," the woman greeted.

"Fi, you're here," I stated in an 'I really wish you weren't though' tone.

Fiona Glenanne: a young Irishwoman of many talents. Awhile back, she was affiliated with the IRA for 14 years but ran afoul because she did not like being told what to do. She has since gone out on her own, working freelance, picking up odd jobs and using her skills in explosives, picking locks, tracking, weapons, marksmanship, and hand-to-hand combat to make a living. I even heard that a while ago she tried working it as an unlicensed bounty hunter and arms dealer. Mostly though, she was a major-league trigger-happy explosive expert; at least, in my eyes, she was. Fiona has a tendency to shoot—or blow up—first and ask questions later. Her preferred method is going in with guns ablazing or IEDs exploding; she also has a certain vixen complex, frequently using her sex appeal to acquire information.

"I came by for a visit. The door was locked, so I broke in," Fiona stated, looking not even slightly shameful saying it.

"What are you doing here?" I hedged cautiously.

"I needed to get out of New York for a while. Old associates sniffing around. And I wanted to try someplace sunny. Plus, I heard you lived somewhere in town."

Whoever told her this was seriously going to die, I swear.

Not letting my emotions show, I continued to converse with her, hoping to devise a quick strategy to get her out fast. "New accent, new…style," was my placating comment.

"Well, I'm in Miami now. I can't very well be talking like a freaking leprechaun, now can I?" she said, letting some of her native accent slip through for a moment as she said that last bit before reverting back. "This is the new me, Aria…for now."

The clock was ticking, and I needed to get her out of here, _fast_. "So you're staying in town then. That's great. Listen, Fi. Now's not really a good time for you to be—"

"Oh, Jesus, Ari. You didn't tell me she was gonna be here," Sam said as he walked in, glaring at Fiona.

 _Lord help me._

Fiona looked absolutely livid at the sight of the man, running at him and fighting me as I caught her. "You cost me a lot of money, you son of a bitch! I've been waiting to talk to you for a long time!" She howled at him.

"I cost you? Okay, for starters, what you're talking about never officially happened. Alright? But unofficially, even if it had, you deserved a hell of a lot worse than what you got, lady."

"Sam!" I yelled, trying to get the two people to calm down.

My protest, however, went unnoticed, as Fiona picked up an empty beer bottle that had been lying around, and hurled it in Sam's direction.

This is the reason I don't have a lot of parties, if any at all. Everyone I know has got a history with everyone else.

"That was a legitimate purchase! The US government had no business—" Fiona began to snarl.

"Yeah? Legitimate? A Libyan arms dealer? How do you figure that?" Sam retorted back sarcastically, not helping the matter. This was not going as planned.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!" I called over all the ruckus, practically straining my voice to be heard. Thankfully, they both knew to shut up pretty quickly when I used _the tone_ ; I turned back to the Irishwoman. "Fi, I'm thrilled that you've come by, but Sam and I need to talk about a job, so you need—"

"A job?" Fiona immediately perked up, becoming instantly docile. "Hmm. That sound like fun." She shot Sam a 'just try and stop me if you can' look over my shoulder. "I'm in."

Before heading upstairs, Sam just sent me a look that said he would personally hold me responsible for any trouble Fiona caused.

 _Heaven help me now._

* * *

—Later, Embossing place—

Often, the best way to get intel is to provoke action, set people in motion. Pros know better, but they usually have to work with a few amateurs, and they panic. So you beat the bushes a little and see what flies out.

So when we got to the printing shop, Sam and I sent Fiona in to try and get some info about the certificate while simultaneously waving around the paper to get the con artists' lackeys' attention.

Knowing her, she would do both that _and_ take the chance to flirt too. It was just typical Fiona.

Meanwhile, Sam and I were stuck in the Charger.

"So anything new happening with you lately, Ari-lee?" Sam asked, using my much despised nickname.

I shrugged. "Ish. Why do you ask?" I questioned turning to him, flaxen brow raised.

"I don't know…You just seem…different, is all," he told me, avoiding my impenetrable gaze.

I was about to respond when a jet-black haired man ran out of the back of the shop.

"There's our guy," I said, starting up the Charger and tailing the amateur's car. Eventually, he came to a stop right before a nice boat docked in the marina.

Once your amateur leads you to the pros, the work begins.

I looked to see three people on the boat, matching Laura's description of them perfectly; Sam snapped a picture of each of our con artists to show to his police buddies later and possibly get some names and info. Looking at them I made a mental note of some things. The 'good-looking one', as Laura had referred to him, was obviously the leader, and the other two were just apprentices.

For future reference, con artists and spies are both professional liars. Cons do it for the money, and spies do it for the flag, but it's mostly the same gig. They run operations, they follow procedures, they recruit support staff and issue orders.

* * *

—Later, Night—

Later, Sam and I found ourselves leafing through some info about our con artists. The blondes' name was Quentin King and the apprentices' names were Greg and Bonnie. Cute.

"Hey, so this guy, Quentin, your con artist, hangs out at a club down in South Beach called Onyx. It's nice. Want me to go down there and do some surveillance?" Sam asked hopefully, looking through Quentin's file as I looked through the other twos'.

"No, I think we're fine," I said without looking up. I did not need Sam drunk at the moment.

Approaching from behind my desk chair, he waved a folder in front of me. "I got a cover ID for you, Ari-lee. How do you like the name Petra Jordan?"

I shot him a brief glance and almost blanched. "Would you put some pants on?"

Sam was wearing nothing but his boxers.

"What? I work better when I can breathe down there," he informed me, making obscene gestures as he made motions of fanning himself _down there_ to stress his point. "I mean, do you want to hear about this girl or no?"

Figuring that it was pointless to argue with him, I heaved a sigh. "Yeah, tell me about Petra Jordan."

The brunette man smiled triumphantly before continuing on. "She was cell mates with an ex-partner of Quentin's. She, uh, jumped parole about a month ago, but they caught her. She's in a Phoenix holding cell, but they haven't put her back through the system yet. She kind of looks like you too. You know, more or less," he commented, sitting down next to me and showing me the mugshot.

Skimming over the info, a smirk stretched my lips. "Not bad for a man in his underwear."

"Hey, you think that's good; you should see me without them."

Suddenly there was a loud knocking on the door, causing us both to jump slightly. Knowing that Sam was ill-equipped to go to the door at the time, I was the one who got up and opened it.

And guess who barged her way in?

"Look what I got for someone?" Fiona sing-songed, holding the object up for me to see.

Upon realizing what it was and what she intended to do, I immediately paled, screaming out, "Rape! Rape! Fragnabbit! Somebody call the cops!", and attempted to run for the nearest cover only to be cornered by Fiona; Sam did nothing but laugh a little as Fiona proceeded to torture me.

* * *

—Later, Onyx Club—

When you go after a criminal mastermind, you send another mastermind. The same goes for con artists. To catch one, you've got to beat him at his own game, be a better liar than he is.

Looking around the noisy club for the con artist, I did my best to ignore the dress that Fiona had managed to wrangle me into. Give me aliens, giant robots and/or the Decepticon Warlord himself anyday, and I would be just peachy, but try to put me in a dress and I will fight tooth and nail to not become someone's Barbie doll. She had managed to get me into a form-hugging, short black dress that had only one long-sleeve arm with gold, silver and copper metal diamond designs on the bicep, right over my bandaged arm; she had also gotten me to wear more make-up than just my usual concealer that I used to hide the scars on my face.

Thankfully, the Fates smiled upon me and I found Quentin. Casually, I sauntered over to the couch he was sitting on with a club girl and sat on the other end, waiting for him to notice.

Eventually, he did. "Excuse me, can I help you?" he asked, leaning back to look behind the club-girls head at me as I poured some available champagne for myself before turning to face him.

"Quentin King, right?" I asked with a smile, adopting a New Jersey accent with little hassle.

"Yeah," he admitted, now eyeing me warily.

Now getting a clear look at him, I saw Quentin was exactly as Laura described him. He was young and had short blonde hair with perfect, streamlined looks, like the features you see on certain aristocrats.

"We have a mutual friend up in New York, Paco. Few weeks ago, I'm at a dog track in Newark, freezing my tits off, when I remember that Paco said if I ever got down to Miami, I should look you up. So I'm thinking, "Hell, anywhere's nicer than Newark." So I got my ass down to Miami. Petra Jordan, hey," I introduced, smiling casually, and reaching over and shaking the man's hand.

"Look, Petra, you got the wrong guy," he told me.

"No, no, I don't think so," I insisted stubbornly, leaning into the girl's space a little too much on purpose. "See, I was roommates with your buddy Paco for a year. He told me about that job you pulled off, up in Tampa. Real nice. I have a business opportunity I want to discuss with you."

Finally, with a tiny prompting from Quentin, the girl got up eagerly and left, probably uncomfortable being ignored and having her personal space being invaded by a stranger.

No matter how good your cover identity is, you've got to sell it, and that's not always easy.

"Like I said, you got the wrong guy. I don't know you. I don't know this Paco—"

Interrupting him, I stubbornly pushed at the guys resolve. "Hey, I went to a lot of trouble to find you. I got a warrant on my ass. Will you hear me out?"

"I'm in water-filter sales. Now, you want a water filter, I can help you out."

I forced a laugh before leaning in and saying, "I don't want to argue with you, but what's a water-filter salesman doing with a 45 inside a shoulder holster?"

Immediately, his expression hardened. "That's my business," he told me before a smirk graced his fine features as he leaned back in and said, "But you know what is your business? There's a couple cops that are sitting over there by the bar, talking to the manager. Been there awhile, probably liquor license. How about I bring them over here and we talk about the terms of your parole?"

Sometimes you have to decide just how committed you are to pretending you are who you say you are.

I grabbed him as he went to get up, pulling out a gun that I had concealed in my useless folded up shawl, and pressing it into his side. "Anyone ever tell you you're bad at making friends?" I smiled back sickly sweet, taking his gun. "Paco said you had some issues, but I like to give people a chance. It's just how I am. This is what happens: you're gonna get us out of here, because I like Miami, and I'm not going back to jail. So if those cops even _look at me_ , we'll see how many slugs I can put through your liver before they take me down. I got 20 bucks on 4. You want to take the over or the under?"

As he contemplated my words, I pretended to grove a little to the beat of the song that was playing.

Finally, he said, "All right, let's go out back."

"Smile, stand up, put your arm around me and act like the friends I wanted us to be." Like the excellent actor the con artist was, Quentin slung his arm around me and laughed heartily, the bogus sound easily believable to anyone looking in our direction. We were just some old friends laughing over some old, long-forgotten joke as we made our way out.

Finally though, we made it out and Quentin's mask melted away. "All right, here we are. You want to take that thing out of my ribs now?"

"Oh, and then you send the cops right after me? Uh-huh."

Swiftly letting go of him and striding forward, I took aim with my gun.

I don't like running from cops, but it has its advantages: it builds your credibility with a criminal when you flee a crime scene.

Quickly, I fired, shooting out the tires of the cop cruisers.

"I'll be in touch," I told him firmly over my shoulder, looking him dead in the eyes, before disappearing into the night. Had I looked back, I would have seen a smirk playing on Quentin's lips.

* * *

—Aria's Place—

Thankfully, I made it back home in one piece. Fiona, who had been watching me from the background, walked up beside me as we made it past the line of people and the gate.

"Well that was fun," she finally spoke.

I raised an eyebrow. "'Fun'? I'm surprised that you haven't yet commented on the lack of explosions."

She shrugged. "That was a bit of downer, but I finally got to see you in a dress for once and live a little. I must say it's a refreshing change of pace," she smiled, me looking me up and down, at her handiwork.

Rolling my grey orbs, I snorted. "Pfft. 'Refreshing' she says…"

Of course, the lightness of the mood was not meant to be.

"Don't move," the gunman commanded, firearm aimed at Fiona's head as he stepped from the shadows. That was a huge mistake on his part. "Sugar wants you out," the thug-for-hire said, looking me directly in the eyes.

I figured as much.

"They have nothing to do with this," I said as calmly as possible.

"Shut up."

Well there went his one chance to make it out of this unscathed.

"He's right. Aria, shut up," Fi said, swaying her body tantalizingly in front of the man with a gun as she clapped a hand over my mouth. She turned to face the hired gun with a familiar fire burning in her eyes. "I can handle myself." Like the fly deceived by the spiders lies, he fell for the trap, ensnaring himself willingly in her web. Then, Fiona struck; the Irish woman grabbed his gun-arm and aimed it away, slamming her head into his jaw, before finally KO-ing the guy with his own gun. "You really ought to do something about your neighbors," Fi told me simply as if nothing had happened, handing me the handgun.

"I know, I know."

"Oh and Aria," she called as she went to leave. "You really should try to open up to people a little more. It'll do you wonders."

* * *

—Next Day, Near the Beach, Morning—

Eavesdropping and fieldwork go hand in hand. You want to know what your target is saying and what he's typing into his computer, but technology can't work miracles. Bugs don't plant themselves. Fact is, even the fanciest equipment usually needs help from a good, old-fashioned crowbar.

"Get onto the boat, plant the bugs, get out quick," I carefully instructed Sam and Fiona, handing Sam the duffel bag of tools that they would need.

"Yep, gotcha. Okay, what's that for?" Sam asked, eyeing the crowbar Fiona had pulled out of the bag.

"I could think of something," Fiona grinned, brandishing it as the wordless threat of bodily harm hung in the air. Apparently, she was still miffed about whatever had happened between them ages ago.

Knowing that if something wasn't done quickly, Fiona's words would lead to another argument, I quickly stepped in. "It's for the lock, if you have trouble, Sam."

Thankfully, the words seemed to placate him from Fiona's jab. "Ari, give me some credit. I mean, I can handle a lock."

"Quentin had a Colt," I informed him firmly. "Forty-five with extended controls and a beveled mag well. He's serious. Be careful, Sam."

Then, I turned back to the woman. "Yeah, Fi, I want you to fix Quentin's car so we can disable it if anything happens. You think you can handle that?"

"I'm not gonna answer that," she imparted snootily.

"Well then, I'm off to make friends," I said, stepping out of the car and putting on my sunglasses.


	8. Conning the Con Artist

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Transformers Prime, Burn Notice, or any other quoted sources.

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Conning the Con Artist**

"It's me again," I greeted, sitting down at the table that Quentin and another girl were sitting at.

 _Sheesh, can someone say 'man-whore'?_

"Do me a favor, babe, take a swim. Water's great," he told the girl, giving her a winning smile that would have set many a woman's heart ablaze. Thank God I don't have a heart. "You want a drink?" he offered not unkindly.

"It depends. Am I talking to Quentin King or some water-filter salesman?" I queried.

"Hey you know how it is. You could be a cop, you could be a fed, you could be anyone," he defended.

"I'm not just anyone," I told him, though he would never understand the true meaning of the statement.

"Well you can handle yourself. I'll give you that," he agreed, probably referring to the night before. "So you have something."

"If you burn me…" I began, acting like the paranoid, escaped convict I was claiming to be.

"Let's hear your proposal," the con interrupted, probably eager to get down to business and get me out of his hair. "You'll meet my team. We'll see."

Deciding that to form a friendship, he needed a show of good will, I pulled out an object wrapped in a white cloth from the tote bag Fiona had leant me, and passed it over to him. "There's your gun back," I said.

Warily, he took it and I flashed him a smile; and a little cautiously, he returned the gesture.

* * *

—Sam and Fiona's POV—

It's always useful to be able to disable a car remotely. A cell phone, some wire, you can ground the circuit on the electrical system with a phone call.

"Are you just about done down there?" Sam asked Fiona again.

"In a second, this is an art," the auburn-haired woman said unconcernedly as she continued to connect various wires to certain places under Quentin's car.

"No. Wiring crap into a car is not an art. It's about as subtle as hitting someone with a brick," he told her, annoyed, feeling slightly awkward just standing there in the open while Fiona stayed under the car doing whatever.

"Hitting someone with a brick takes a lot of skill," she told him, rolling out from under the car. "You should try it sometime. It's all in the wrist." Looking into her eyes, you could tell how much she wanted to do it to him.

"Sorry, not my style."

"I know." Fiona picked up the bag. "That's right, I forgot. You only do what the suits tell you."

"You know, that was a cheap shot," he called after her, following the infuriating woman onto the boat.

* * *

—Aria POV, Docks—

A good cover identity keeps the target feeling in control. You talk too much, drink too much just to let him know he's got the edge.

"I respect what you're doing; going after checking accounts, consumer credit. I mean, it's easy," I said waving my papers a bit as I talked, walking alongside Quentin. "It's like picking up coconuts on the beach. I like coconuts as much as the next gal, but I'm talking about something bigger than coconuts."

"Enough with the coconuts," Quentin said, probably wanting to get to the point. "What's the scam?"

"Annuities," I told him, handing one of the ads to Greg. "You sell someone an annuity, and they dig a deep: home equity, major assets, the money they're saving up for their grandkids. You give them a piece of paper, and you walk away with everything they own."

I felt disgusted with myself even as I said it. But it was the price I had to pay for this cover ID to work. Still I felt almost…unclean as I did so. In reality, people actually did this to others.

"Why do you need us?" Quentin asked, suspicious.

Thankfully, I did not miss a beat. "You've got leads," I said. "What was you're hit rate on your last scam, 1 in 50? You go back to everyone you missed and you nail one in five." I watched out of the corner of my eye as Greg and Bonnie looked at each other, greedy looks in their eyes as I told them the statistics. Always go with the logical approach; it's hard to argue with facts. " _Fifteen-hundred grand_. I got tax documents, marketing stuff, and a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue, and we're done."

While the other two smiled, obviously liking the idea, Quentin hummed, sounding a bit a bit unimpressed. "Well, you know, we're making money," he said, looking at the document before handing it back. "And this forge crap, the feds are all over that."

"But 100 grand per mark dude! That's millions!" Greg exclaimed incredulously, looking at Quentin like he was crazy for refusing such an offer.

The lead con artist, however, was unimpressed with his apprentice's outburst. "Greg, take a walk. Okay?" He patted him on the shoulder, giving him a pointed look.

With obvious reluctance, Greg complied, walking off, Bonnie following.

 _Slag! He's going back to the boat!_ I realized belatedly.

"Listen, you don't want this, I don't want this. In fact I don't need this," I said, trying the ol' reverse-psychology approach.

"No, no, no—"

"I'll walk away—"

"I want to talk about this. Come on, let's talk. Let's talk about it," the aristocrat wannabe said.

* * *

—Quentin's Boat, Sam and Fiona's POV—

"You boys and you computers," Fiona scoffed as Sam plugged a memory drive into the laptop.

"If you've got a better way to find encrypted passwords and account information, I'm all ears, baby," Sam remarked, quickly typing.

* * *

—Restaurant, Aria's POV—

As Quentin and I chatted, I quickly sent a text to Fiona under the table that we sat at.

 _ **Greg n Bonnie coming. Get out.**_ **—** Aria

Little did I know that neither heard it.

* * *

—Quentin's Boat, Sam and Fiona's POV—

"Here you go," Sam said, pausing for a moment and tossing the bug to Fiona. "Stick that up there and hurry up about it. We'd have been out of here 10 minutes ago if you didn't argue about every little thing."

Fiona ignored the weak jab, in favor of looking around at the lights as to find the best way to hide it and hear everything.

* * *

—Restaurant, Aria's POV—

The con artist held up a bottle he had snagged from the bar of the restraint we were at.

'This is great,' he mouthed, shooting me a thumbs-up as he went to pay.

I smiled back, nodding. All the while, under the table, I typed into my phone.

 _ **Get out. R U there?**_ —Aria

There was no response.

* * *

—Quentin's Boat, Sam and Fiona's POV—

"I've heard surveillance through these things," Fiona commented skeptically looking at the bug before planting it into the light fixture. "It sounds like everyone's underwater."

"Hey, if you have a way to put a recording studio in a light fixture, love to hear it," was Sam's sarcastic remark.

In that moment, Fiona was about retort with a clever comeback when she just happened to glance outside and saw that Greg and Bonnie were coming back. "Uh-oh," she said drawing Sam's attention.

Knowing that there wasn't any time to get unnoticed, Sam and Fiona both looked at each other before diving for the front of the boat, where the sleeping quarters were.

And just in the nick of time too, as the apprentice con artists had just walked in, only to find the door of their boat opened. The duo shared a look, before cautiously walking inside. Within, they found a discarded, high-heeled shoe. Immediately they headed toward the sleeping quarters area only to find the door unlocked and some people inside.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Greg demanded, looking aghast as he gaped at the couple sprawled out on their beds.

"What are you doing here?" Fiona retorted, playing the confused woman excellently.

"We live here," Greg snapped back in a 'well, duh' tone.

"Wha—You—" Sam stuttered.

"You live here?" Fiona gaped at them before turning on Sam, her 'lover', with a stern look. "Oh, god, you liar. You liar! You son of a bitch!" She had no qualms as she slapped him right across the face.

"I can explain, baby," Sam said, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Explain what?" she snarled back. "That you told me you had a yacht so you could get in my pants? Is that about right?"

"I'm sorry, baby," Sam apologized, sounding desperate as he played along only to be slapped again by Fiona.

"Oh! I can't believe this. This is our third date. He said this was his boat," Fiona told their little audience, sounding a little tearful as she put her shirt back on. Of course, only Sam knew that they were crocodile tears.

Greg just looked at them annoyed, completely buying their pack of lies. "Get out."

"Where's my shoe?" Fiona sniffled for effect.

"Here," Bonnie disgustedly said, offering her the lost heel, just wanting to get rid of them as quick as possible.

"Oh. You are taking me home right now," Fiona berated, looking at Sam angrily. For her part, it did not take much to fake. "We are leaving." With undisguised glee, she smacked him with her shoe, continuing to threaten him with the footwear. "We are leaving!"

"Okay, Jesus, ow," he said, backing away from the psycho woman as they took their leave. "We're so sorry about this," he apologized before throwing Fiona over his shoulder. "Let's go."

* * *

—Later, Bar, Aria's POV—

"…And eventually we got out of there," Sam concluded his tale. "Anyway it's all good. It was just a little…painful in the end. 'Course, it wouldn't have been a problem if I didn't have _someone_ second-guessing me and slowing the whole thing down."

"It was fine Aria," Fiona informed her smoothly. "Next time I'll check my phone."

That of course brought the conversation back to me. "Hey, how'd it go? Is Quentin your new best buddy?" Sam enquired.

I snorted. "Hardly. I've cracked ex-KGB officers easier than this guy. We're gonna have to push these guys, drive his little team apart."

"Old school. You know I like that. Do you want the full on disinformation campaign?" he queried, catching on.

I merely shook my golden head. "No, keep it small. Just enough to nudge him in my direction."

"Can do. Who wants another beer?" he then asked, getting up.

"Me," Fiona said quietly as I also got up.

"Anyways…I have a little home-improvement project I have to do," I told her, putting my sunglasses on. "See ya later."

With that said, I headed over to my Charger, intent on heading to the nearest hardware store before heading back. Sugar was going to regret messing with this girl.

* * *

—Later, Aria's Place—

Once somebody sends a guy with a gun after you, things are only going to get worse. But like it or not, you've got work to do.

For a job like getting rid of the drug dealer next door, I'll take a hardware store over a gun any day. Guns make you stupid. Better to fight your wars with duct tape. Duct tape makes you smart.

An hour later after going to the hardware store and coming back, all my plans and preparations were complete and it was time to see it all come to fruition as I waltzed up to Sugar's front door, bag of tools in hand.

Any decent punk has a bulletproof door. But people forget that walls are just plaster.

My knuckles rapped loudly on the metal entrance.

"Who's there?" Sugar's voice called from the other side.

"Hi! It's your neighbor," I answered cheerily through the door.

Hopefully, you get him with the first shot.

I fired off the first shot through the muffler, aiming downwards at the plaster on the wall nearest to the doorknob.

When I heard nothing, I fired again.

…Or the second.

The man on the other side screamed in pain. "My knee! Nghhhh!"

Now he's down and waiting for you to come through the front door… So you don't come through the front door.

I ran around to the back where I had previously made a convenient and easy entrance for myself into Sugar's place after removing a section of the buildings' metal exterior.

Busting in easily through the plaster with a thick hammer, I made my way in through the drug dealer's home to the front door, gun at the ready.

"Come on inside! Come on bitch!" he howled, aiming at the door and clutching his bloodied knee as I came up behind him, a gun trained on his head.

"Don't move," I intoned firmly, finally making him aware of my presence. He looked up in surprise, before lowering his gun in defeat because he knew he had been outmaneuvered. _Good._ "Easy Vanilla-Ice." With ease, I relieved him of his gun as he groaned in pain. "Now you got 20 minutes to clear out. Do you understand? _Do you understand_?"

"Yes! Yes!" he agreed all too quickly, face scrunched up in pain.

"The wound is not that bad," I told him clearly, making sure he understood exactly what was going on. "You disinfect it, you wrap it in this, and you go to the hospital and you won't walk with a limp. You're still here in 20 minutes, a limp will be the least of your problems. Do you understand me?" I glared gathering up my stuff and aiming the gun at him again as I left the medical supplies within easy reach. I wasn't completely merciless after all.

"Yes." And with that I made my exit through the front door leaving the man to scream in pain.

* * *

—Later, Onyx Club—

Go after a group of people directly, and they pull together, they get stronger. Taking out a tight-knit group is about making them turn on each other. You plant the seeds of distrust and watch them grow.

"I'm still thinking about it," Quentin told me.

"I talked to Greg and Bonnie—" I began in my falsetto New Jersey accent.

"Enough about Greg and Bonnie. They're not in charge here," he intoned firmly.

 _Well someone has control issues._

"Fine, I'm just saying, we can't delay this much longer. Tax season is coming up. If people buy in, they do it just before April," I tried reasoning again, prying at his resolve like a dog left outside and who wanted in.

Eventually, he spoke, but it wasn't about my idea. "So you and Paco, you were cellmates…what, a year?" he began thoughtfully.

"I could think of worse ways to do time," I admitted.

He still looked thoughtful, before shaking his head and smiling. "Paco, man. He still make that Pruno? I did a couple months with him in county, and man, he made the best prison wine."

Of course, sowing seeds of distrust is harder when nobody trusts you.

I paused in my drink; I had the urge to ask 'Is this a test?' "Paco doesn't drink. What are you trying to pull?" I finally retorted lowly.

Quentin blinked and I got the feeling I had passed his little test. "Yeah…course. I forgot."

Then we both laughed awkwardly.

* * *

—Later, Aria's Place—

"What, so you just guessed?" Sam repeated incredulously after I told him the story.

I shrugged. "Either he drank or he didn't; it was fifty-fifty. And I guessed right. Good thing too. I think he was planning on shooting me if I got it wrong."

"Ah, nice work, Ari," he complemented.

"How's the betrayal paper trail coming?"

"Oh, great. It's actually some of my best work. I got plane tickets for Greg and Bonnie, and a couple of offshore bank accounts. I'll get it over there tonight and plant it."

* * *

—Next Day—

The next day found me hanging out at Glenn and Maggie's, updating them on my progress.

Then the phone call came in.

"Excuse me. I got a phone call," I said, getting up and excusing myself to go outside to answer it. Glancing at the number, I finally opened it to answer but didn't even get a greeting out before:

"Were you in on this? Answer me!"

"Quentin, calm down. What are you talking about?" I questioned, slipping into my falsetto accent.

"Answer me!" Quentin demanded on the other end.

"I don't know," I told him firmly.

"I got bank statements, plane tickets, huh? Greg and Bonnie had some plans," he said angrily, the sound of papers being throwing about on the other side.

My fingers massaged the bridge of my nose. Sometimes a great plan comes together just a little bit too early.

"What, you thought you could go around me?" he sneered, a few decibels short of yelling. "Is that what you thought huh?"

In a deadly calm voice, I said, "Why would I do that? Yeah, you think about it. I need your leads. Without that, I got nothing. Greg and Bonnie, two stupid kids I'd have to share my score with? You know what I'm saying?"

"I swear to God, if I find out you're lying to me—"

Changing tactics, I said, "I'm tellin' you the truth. This might not be what it looks like."

"They got a goddamn bottle of champagne!" he roared, peeved. "They were gonna rip me off and go to the Caymans or the Seychelles!"

"Just don't do anything without me," I intoned firmly.

"This will be over tonight."

 _Ca-Shink!_

You've been in the business way too long when you recognize the sound of a .45 caliber over the phone.

"Don't do anything stupid," I managed to say before he hung up.

* * *

—Sam's POV—

"Okay, Ari, I'm here. I'm at the marina," he told her over the phone as he drove up.

"If Quentin leaves the boat, our plan is in serious trouble," Aria's voice informed him.

"Yeah, he's here. I can see him walking around on the boat," Sam confirmed, watching as the man paced the length of his boat.

"You've got to make sure he doesn't go anywhere."

"Don't worry about it," he assured the paranoid girl. "I'll keep an eye on him."

"He's planning to kill Greg and Bonnie, then blow out of town with the money."

"Hang on," Sam said, watching the lead con artist from afar.

"What do you see?" she immediately questioned.

"He's coming out right now," he told her. "I'll use Fiona's gizmo. I'll just zap the car."

"Call me when it's done."

"Alright," he relented. Then she hung up.

Sam dialed the number to the phone of Fiona's car disabler as Quentin headed towards his vehicle.

Instead of the planned disabling of the car, there was a sudden, huge _KABOOM!_ And a huge fiery explosion engulfed the vehicle.

That's what happens when you wire a cell phone to a blasting cap in the gas tank instead of the electrical system.

"Son of a bitch!" Sam howled before gunning it out of there.

* * *

—Later, Aria's Place, Aria's POV—

"Fiona, you were supposed to stop the car, not blow it into the Everglades!" I fumed. Now I knew what it felt like for Optimus. "What happened to shorting the ignition?"

"Well you said 'disable'. It's not going anywhere," Irishwoman said innocently, no regret evident in her voice.

"You know what I meant," I scowled, pausing in my pacing and twirling my batons for a moment. "I almost had him. I was this close." Peering out my window, I cursed at what I saw. "The FBI is back, I see. I'm under surveillance again. Sam, I thought you were supposed to handle that," I said, now whirling on Sam.

"Ari, there's only so much I can do. I got to tell the suits why we're down at the marina to keep them off our back. But if _somebody_ starts blowing up cars down at the marina—"

"You're friends with someone who put the FBI back onto you," Fi snapped back.

Sam looked askance at her. "That is so unfair."

"Sam, what about Quentin?" I questioned. "You were supposed to nudge him, not send him into a homicidal frenzy."

"Look, you guys were off doing your thing, so I signed up Greg and Bonnie through this Medallion Airways Executive Service to the Cayman Islands, you know, as part of the set up. Well, they got this new thing where they, overnight a bottle of champagne to the new members. Quentin started sniffing around, and in less than an hour, he found everything that I did. It was little stuff, but he put it all together," the retired SEAL defended.

I fell silent, still pacing and twirling my batons at a frenzied pace.

"Turn him around; make him trust you," the auburn haired woman eventually piped up.

I just shot her a scathing look. "He's not in a trusting mood, Fi."

Despite my current less than hospitable mood, Fiona pushed on. "I know you're angry, Aria, but I know that an exploding car can throw a man off-balance. You'll thank me."

"He won't even talk to me. He won't even answer my calls," I sighed, cooling down a little.

"Well, you'll have to be extra charming," she smirked.

* * *

—Later—

Whether you're in Moscow, Tehran, or Miami, club girls are a good source of information. Men say things to a beautiful woman. They give out phone numbers, hotel keys. They let down their guard.

Getting information from a club girl means buying drinks. It's no problem with an operational slush fund. It's a big problem if you're spending cash scrounged from your friend's purse.

Thankfully, tonight I was lucky enough to convince a club girl to give me Quentin's number with little trouble.

"You're a hard man to reach," I greeted smoothly when he picked up.

"Yeah, well, things have been a bit busy. What do you want?" he asked, sounding a little oddly quiet. Guess that explosion really shook him up.

"Same thing as before: make some money. Where are you?" I asked. I still needed him so I could return Laura's money to her.

"I'm laying low."

 _Great, just great._

"When can we get together?" I prodded.

"I don't think that's a very good idea right now," he said, sounding really shaky.

"Quentin, buddy," I crooned softly. "I'm the only one you can trust right now. You're partners just tried to kill you. You need a friend. Quentin, you need to learn to reach out. We can help each other. Quentin—"

"Fine. Where?" he asked, caving.

* * *

—Later, Night, Under a Bridge—

I walked over to Quentin at the meeting place, exactly at the scheduled time. It was under a bridge near the water that had all this graffiti art on it. Probably because I appeared to melt out of the shadows, he jumped when he heard me, whirling around and aiming his gun at me.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, buddy. It's me," I said, raising my hand in an 'I come in peace' gesture.

"I've been waiting here man," he said, looking a little crazed. "You said 2:00."

I glanced at my watch. "It's 2:00."

Haphazardly, he ran a hand through his once neat hair, the days' stress getting to him; he still had some bruising on the right side of his face from the explosion. "You know they're back on my yacht? I'm gonna go down there, I swear to god—"

"Listen, two bodies, a murder weapon, and you're suspect number one," I interrupted. I needed to get him out of this crazed frenzy, _now._ "I mean, you know my style. I'm not afraid to pull a trigger if that's what has to happen. But let's be smart about this."

"You got a better idea?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "I know a guy, know what I'm saying? Someone who can deal with this. It'll cost some money, but he'll make this go away quiet, no connection to you. One wire transfer, it's done, and then we can go on with our business."

A hit man is like a plumber, a dentist, or a mechanic; everybody's always looking for a good one.

His jitters seemed to subside a bit and he glanced over his shoulder less. "Alright, let's set that up. He'll do both of them? How much?"

"$50,000."

He didn't even flinch at the number. Seriously, how many people has he scammed over the years? "And they'll both be dead, no connection to me?"

I shook my head, a dead serious look on my face.

Hook, line, sinker; he bought it all. "Okay."

"I'll be in touch," I said before walking away into the gloom.

"Okay." And with that confirmation, I was gone, pulling out my cell phone and quickly dialing a number.

"Sam, Quentin bit. I need you and Fiona to deal with Bonnie and Greg. It's time they got out of town."

"Can do Ari. You know you're out of Orange juice?" he told me, completely off-topic.

"Sam."

* * *

—Quentin's Boat, Morning, Fiona and Sam's POV—

"What am I supposed to do? His car blew up! He's gone," Greg complained to his fellow apprentice. "Maybe he's got enemies he didn't tell us about."

Bonnie however, was looking at something outside the boat. "It's that couple that broke into the boat."

As they came up, Fiona rapped on the glass of the sliding door and Greg answered.

"Good afternoon. Miami PD. I'm detective Cagney. This is detective Lacey," Sam introduced, flashing a badge to complement their suits and dark sunglasses.

"We'd like to talk to you," Fiona said, speaking with her native accent.

"I'm not gonna lie to you," Sam immediately began, looking each in the eyes. "You two are in a lot of trouble. We'd like to know where your partner is."

"You tell me," Greg retorted arrogantly.

Sam chuckled lowly. "You know, you might want to be more cooperative. We've been monitoring you two for…quite a while. You might recall walking in on us as we were planting this," he said, holding up the thumb drive watching as their reactions turned to horror. "We have all the financial transactions off your computer. So, your partner?"

"We don't know okay?" Bonnie said. "He's just gone!"

"Too bad," Fiona stepped in. "There's no deal for you if he doesn't show up. You go down for the whole show." By now, the con artists were looking pretty wary of the duo as the Irishwoman continued on. "Miami juries, they don't like people who rob retirees and beat up grandmas."

"That wasn't us," Bonnie said, looking ready to pitch a fit at the thought of jail. "That was Quentin. We never touched them. Quentin was the one smacking them around." Greg tried to silence her, but Bonnie just kept on going, getting shriller and shriller. "We don't even have the money! Quentin transferred it all to his own account—"

"Shut up!" Greg bellowed at her causing the girl to fall into silence.

"Of course, you could help us find him, testify for a reduced sentence, and only get, I don't know, 5 to 10," Sam said playing to temptation.

"I want to talk to a lawyer," Greg eventually said, impenetrably.

"Go ahead," Fiona agreed with a slight sneer. "Don't take too long. And don't go anywhere."

And with that, they walked away.

* * *

—Over-looking the Boat—

"You know, for all your antigovernment speechifying, you do lady cop pretty well," Sam complemented as they settled in to watch the apprentice con artists from afar.

"Thanks."

"Okay, so you bet they would be gone be 4:00. Well another couple minutes, after that, I'm twenty bucks richer," Sam smirked as the duo below bickered.

"I'll win," Fiona sing-songed. "Greg comes on strong, but you can tell he's scared of prison. He's selling her on the sandy beaches of Cancun right now."

"Mexico, you think?"

"Or the Caribbean," she conceded.

"Uh-oh," Sam said when the two finally unhitching their boat; Fiona just grinned like the cat who ate the canary. Sam laughed a little as he pulled out his wallet, conceding his defeat with a, "Okay there they go." He saw the look on her face as he handed her the twenty dollar bill. "Don't look too smug."

* * *

—Motel Where Quentin is Laying Low, Later, Aria's POV—

I don't much like dealing with paranoids. They get erratic, make bad decisions. Of course, that can be a help when you need them to make a bad decision.

"Whoa, Jesus Christ!" Quentin exclaimed as I barreled into him, just as he had been locking the door to his motel room.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I snarled, grabbing him.

"I'm going to the bank like we said," he said in an obvious tone.

"With the FBI watching you?" I snapped, keeping him pinned.

"FBI? What are you talking about?" he asked stupidly.

"Right here, look," I nodded my head at my FBI tail. Guess they actually did come in handy every so often.

"FBI? How?" he half-murmured to himself, probably not understanding what was going on.

"I don't know. You tell me, Quentin," I demanded. I just needed him to give me his account numbers and this would all be over.

"Greg and Bonnie," he realized. "I took the cash. They must have gone to the feds."

"You're careless," I said, glancing over my shoulder at my tail. It wouldn't do for them to get too suspicious. "You're gonna get us caught. I am not going back to prison."

Quentin rubbed his unshaven features tiredly as he hissed, "Okay, shut up for a second and let me think."

"No, there is no time for that," I said, getting up in his face, making it seem like we were under a major time crunch. "You need Greg and Bonnie dead more than ever. They're your only witnesses. They know me. This is a disaster Quentin."

"Fine, we'll go to the bank," he conceded. "I'll wire the money to the guy like we talked about."

"Wire the money? With an FBI tail?" With a fierce expression on my face, I drew out a gun and pointed it at him, making sure that no one else could really see it. "Are you stupid, or are you just trying to get us caught?" I snarled, before letting go of him like I had been burned. "You know what? Have a nice life."

I started to walk away.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," he said, scrambling to block me. "Maybe we can get someone else to make the transfer."

"It has to happen right now. What are you gonna do? Find some guy on the street, say, 'Can you wire money to Aruba?' Nice try," I scoffed.

"No, you do it."

Those words were music to my ears. But I still needed to play the part otherwise I'd risk him getting suspicious and backing out.

"No. I'm not cleaning up your mess," I refuted.

"They don't know you," he reasoned, thinking that was what was wrong. "I'll give you my account numbers, you send the money, and we'll meet up later."

I shook my head vehemently. "No, I take all the risk, and I save your ass. No thank you."

"No, I'm telling you. It's gonna work." By now the man was just shy of getting on his knees to beg me.

Eventually, I pretended to crumble under his arguments. "And then we make some money?"

"Then we make some money," he agreed.

"Fine, but you make sure the feds follow you. 'Cause if they follow me, you'll wish I put a bullet in your head right here."

He nodded and handed me the information, before heading off to placate my little tail. Behind the con artists back, I couldn't help but smirk victoriously.

 _It was a pleasure doing business with you Quentin. Have a nice life._

* * *

—Later—

Truth is, identity theft isn't hard. A number and an ID is all you need to drain a bank account and return a lot of money to some very surprised retirees. But why stop there? As long as your stealing someone's identity, why not use it to contact some known terrorist organizations on unsecure phone lines? Why not use it to threaten some federal judges and insult the local drug cartel?

From a safe distance, I watched as the police carted Quentin King away to prison; the smirk from before still playing mirthfully on my lips.

 _Most fun I've ever had in Miami._

* * *

—Next Day, Glenn's House—

"…It was all there. I looked at my bank statement, and there it was, all the money," Laura laughed happily as she, Glenn, Maggie and I all sat in Glenn's living room.

"I'm glad it could work out," I said simply.

"I told you. Didn't I tell you?" Maggie grinned at her.

"How did you do it? How did you get it all back?" Laura asked, probably forgetting the meaning of a phrase 'don't look a gift horse in the mouth', in her old age.

"You don't want to know," I said while she continued to look at me, probably figuring that I would still tell her anyway. "No, really, you don't want to know."

"Oh. Well how much do I owe you?" she finally asked.

"Well I didn't do it for the money," I admitted. "Let's call it $500 for expenses." Then I saw Glenn and Maggie's reactions and I had to fight not to laugh. Their reactions were just too priceless. I'm seriously not _that_ greedy. "Call it $300, and you promise not to enter any more contests?"

The elderly woman laughed tears of joy this time, though I still kept a wary distance. "I promise."

* * *

—Later—

I was just leaving exiting Glenn's house when he called out to me.

"Aria!"

"Yeah Glenn?" I answered, stopping and turning around, halfway to my car.

"Thank you." I could tell by his tone that he genuinely meant it as he gripped my hand, pressing something into it. I looked down to see it was the container for the virus I had given him and Maggie; a small smile danced across my lips.

Mission accomplished; it was time to go home.


	9. Imaginary Voices, Wreckers and Chaos

I am so so sorry. My life has gone to the dogs and I've been kicking myself over posting this for awhile now. Currently, my grades have taken a nose-dive because instead of working on stupid Edgenuity in my first hour AZ/US history as I should be, I have been using the computer to type up my story. Understandably, now everyonce is getting on my ass about getting my lousy grades up. So sadly, I will continue to not be able to update at least once every weekend as I had planned, but I will try damnedest to do so.

Anyway, read, relax, and review...And ON WITH THE SHOW!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime, nor any other recognizable sources.

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Imaginary Voices, Wreckers and Chaos**

"Yello?" Jack answered his phone as it rang; Aria had previously modified all their phones to work in base. It was just after the Scraplet infestation and they had gotten Optimus and Arcee back. All the bots were now laying in medical beds in varying degrees of disrepair, and being monitored by the humans. The kids had called their parents to let them know that they were 'staying at a friends' house' overnight while they helped take care of the bots.

"Green, blue, purple, pink….Um…What comes after pink in the rainbow again?" came a familiar feminine voice on the other end.

"Aria!" he exclaimed, drawing the others' attention. He put his phone on speakerphone for the others to hear. "It's about time you called."

"Yeah…sorry about that. It's been a madhouse over here," she sighed and Jack could practically see her rubbing her face tiredly. Then there was the sound of glass shattering in the background. "Hold on…" Jack could hear as she yelled to someone else in the background. "Sam! Fiona! For bloody Pete's sake! Will you keep it down?! I'm _trying_ to have a conversation here." There was the sound of someone retorting loudly—and probably rudely—though he couldn't make out what they said. Finally though, she came back with a slight sigh. "Sorry about that. I'm babysitting children right now it seems." More glass shattering, this time closer.

Jack's face stretched into a slight smirk when he recalled the two names she had mentioned. "Sam and Fiona? They're actually in the same room, let alone the same state?" he enquired, remembering the stories she had told him about them.

"Yes, and currently trying to kill each other right now," Aria informed him tiredly.

"And you're not trying to stop them?" he queried, eyebrow raised though she couldn't see it.

"Jack, after spending a couple _days_ trying to get them to stop, I have finally just given up. Let them strangle each other to death I say."

Jack couldn't help but laugh a little before getting back to the meat of the matter. "So does this phone call mean that you're coming home soon?"

"Yeah…How is everyone? You sound tired." Leave it to Aria to be the observant one, even over the phone.

"We aren't much better off than you are right now from the sounds of it," he told her, glancing around at the attentively listening bots and humans.

"Uh-oh, what happened?" she asked, going from tired to deadly serious.

"A lot…"

"Details, facts, plot, condense," she demanded in a tone that Jack dared not refuse.

* * *

"Wow," was all she said when he finished. "I'm sorry that I missed the party. How's everyone feeling? No one permanently damaged?"

"Why don't you ask them yourself?"

"I thought I was."

"How did you…?"

"Please, Jack, don't insult my intelligence."

Jack rolled his eyes; typical Aria.

The sound of more glass breaking on the other end, resounded over the phone, accompanied this time by loud and profuse swearing on his older sister figure's part.

"WILL YOU KEEP IT DOWN?!" Aria roared before there was a loud bang of a door being slammed and the muttered cursing and swears of the livid girl on the other end. "Never _ever_ again," she muttered before exhaling and addressing everyone else. "So…anyone gonna answer my question?"

Surprisingly, after a slight pause, it was Optimus who answered. "We are all fine, Aria."

There was a snort on the other end and Jack could practically feel the grey-eyed girl's exasperation. "Optimus, if there is one thing I hate, it's the words 'fine', 'okay', and 'nothing'. They are all complete lies and are entirely useless words."

Jack swore he heard Ratchet chuckle lowly before saying, "We all received relatively minor injuries in relation to frost and Scraplet infestations, Aria. We will all recover nicely thanks to Jack, Miko, and Rafael's efforts. But thank you for your concern."

"Good. How long before everyone is back on their feet?" Was it just him or did she actually sound a bit concerned?

"A few days at most," the medic answered before seeming to think of something. "Would you like to be bridged back to base?"

"Thanks for the offer but no thanks, Ratchet. I have to make a couple pit stops on my way home." Jacks eyes narrowed, he didn't know how but he knew that that last sentence was a lie, or at least one of her half-truths.

"So how long until you're back?" Bulkhead asked.

"A couple days at most," Aria answered. "I shouldn't be too long. I'll definitely be back before the week is up." The girl on the other end paused for a moment. "It's too quiet. I better get back before I need to start cleaning up bloodstains. It was nice talking to you guys. Oh and Bulk, Bee, Cee, Ratch, Prime," she said making sure to gain their attention, "make sure you get better before I get back so I whip your hide's for not inviting me to the party."

A couple Bots chuckled at that but said a chorus of "we will's" anyway.

"Good, then see ya soon."

"See ya soon, Aria!" they all chorused before the line cut.

* * *

—One Day Later, Aria's POV—

Countryside zoomed by the windows, much like it had the previous day when she had set out. It was then though, that Aria got a text from Jack. This surprised her as Jack usually knew not to text her while she was out on one of her 'little trips'. Curiosity getting the better of her, Aria pulled a hand from the steering wheel and glanced at the display screen.

 _ **New bot in town. Friend of BH's. Landing 2morrow. Will U BBS?**_ —Jack

Immediately, Aria became curious. It wasn't every day, she thought, that a new bot landed and one of the Bots knew them. She had a feeling that this was going to be interesting. Still one-handedly driving, she sent back a reply.

 _ **Soon. Where's he landing?**_ —Aria

After a pause, Jack sent her the coordinates.

 _ **Nearby. Might try 2 meet up there.**_ —Aria

 _ **K. C U soon.**_ —Jack

Changing her course, Aria couldn't help but smile as she put her phone away. _Looks like I've got a bot to meet_.

* * *

Aria had been sitting at the landing site—a sandy desert-like area, partially reminiscent of Egypt—for a while when she finally saw the ship.

The new bots' ship was coming in nicely when it happened: they ambushed him. One moment the sky was clear, the next, Vechicons were swarming the ship, shooting it out of the air. The oddly shaped space ship roughly crashed into the sand, leaving huge skid marks from the forced landing.

 _Hopefully Fowler can't yell at the Autobots because of this._

Knowing there was nothing she could do against such odds, Aria could only watch as a white mech emerged from the smoking mess, taking down one of the 'Cons with a single shot. "If you're trying to ruin my day, you're gonna have to try harder." And with the sound of a metal face guard sliding into place, he bravely charged them, engaging the Decepticons on foot with little trouble. He fought valiantly, fiercely taking the drones down with lightning fast punches, kicks, under, and upper cuts. With his brute strength, he even ripped a drones' arm clean off, using the appendage to smack another one in the face.

"You Cons have gone soft on me," she heard him laugh coolly as he drew out these wicked looking katanas and heading straight for the remaining 'Con, easily dodging the Eradicons' desperate volley of blaster fire. In no time, all the Decepticon drones lay dead or unmoving on the dusty ground.

 _Wicked_ , she thought.

Of course in hindsight, like the title 'Decepticon' suggested, Aria should have known that Decepticons never play fair and seen what happened next, coming. From behind the bot, a Ground Bridge opened. Foolishly, the mech turned toward it, probably smiling victoriously at his little win, only to be sucker punched in the face by the Decepticons heading out of it. In an instant, the bot was knocked out cold.

Aria's eyes widened in horror. _Dammit! Where the hell are the bots?_ she thought.

However, instead of the 'Bots appearing magically like she hoped, a Cybertronian, that looked exactly like the new Autobot, stepped through the Bridge, along with a couple drones. Hurriedly, the two drones immediately seized the mech, dragging the unconscious 'Bot through the portal while the doppelganger stayed.

The Decepticons' plan made itself clear to her in an instant; it was so simple yet absolutely diabolical.

Aria's stormy grey orbs darted between her two options, mind working furiously. On one hand, she could stay behind and warn the others of the fake twin. On the other, she could try and rescue the original bot and… Her window of opportunity was closing fast.

 _Ah, screw it!_ she thought, coming to a last minute, split second decision. With what little time was left, the blonde-haired girl slipped through the Ground Bridge, just barely making it through as the portal closed behind her. Hopefully, Op—the Autobots would be just fine.

Once on the other side, she wasted no time in scampering to the nearest shadowy cover she could find, determinedly thinking ninja-like thoughts. Hopefully nobody saw her. Lucky for her however, the _Nemesis_ ' interior was decorated to look like the inside of a goth mental asylum, scaled to titan size and covered in metal. So the dark clothes she currently wore blended nicely with the drab décor of the Decepticon warship. The only thing that really stood out was her rather luminous hair and pale skin tone. But hopefully no one would notice since she mostly had that covered.

The thing about being the only significantly smaller being on the ship: it was both a blessing and a curse. Since everything on the ship was about at their optic-level, the 'Cons never really thought to look down (technically they didn't need to). However, that also meant that everything was scaled to fit them, so she had a bit of a time trying to reach certain things. Not to mention that for every stride that her quarry took, she had to take roughly ten long ones to keep up with them.

Aria continued to follow them through the dimly-lit hallways of the ship. The many twists and turns they took, making it nearly impossible to remember the way back. Not that it really mattered; they definitely were not getting out the same way she had gotten in. Belatedly, she barely repressed a wince, managing to turn it into a pained grimace. She hadn't really thought this plan through too well.

None too gently, they dragged the unconscious Autobot into what she assumed was a holding cell in the brig, the doors shutting behind them. Lovely.

Watching from her place in the shadows, the blonde girl's mind kicked into overdrive trying to come up with a plan. The first thing she needed to do was find a way to get into the cell.

A giddy feeling of anticipation settled in her stomach as she set to work with a plan forming in her mind; boy did she love a challenge.

The Decepticons had better watch out because the phoenix was about to rise from the ashes, and things were about to get a whole lot crazier.

* * *

—Later—

 _Why do the Decepticons need a ventilation system anyway?_ she thought irritably, creeping through the metal shafts. _I mean, it's not like they need to breathe anyway._

Fun fact: crawling through a dusty ventilation system (no matter how big) and doing your damnedest not to sneeze, is damn near impossible. It's doable, but if you're trying to do it silently, with as all possible speed, you better hope you have some something to cover your nose and mouth to keep from sneezing, especially with all the years-worth of dust you're kicking up.

For the umpteenth time, Aria pinched her nose, clamping another hand over her mouth in an attempt to keep from sneezing or at least muffle the sound. By now her grey eyes were watering, both from the dust and the muffled sneezing.

 _That mech better be damn thankful for what I'm doing for him_ , she thought venomously as she continued to crawl forward. If there was some divine force out there, watching her right now, they were probably laughing their ass off at her right now. _That's just such a lovely thought. I'm a cosmic joke right now, and some miserable hippy up there is now getting off from my misery. Thanks so much…Assholes! I hope you choke on your laughter!_

As she continued to push forward, mentally cursing and bitching all the way, her efforts paid off as she came to a metal grate overlooking a familiar white mech, who was now strung up by his wrists by some kind of energy manacles above his head.

' _Oh dear we are in trouble,'_ she mentally quoted with some amusement now, her bad mood now a thing of the past. _Geez, who let Argus Filch in on the scene?_ she couldn't help but mentally think in a dry tone, remembering the descriptions of the Hogwarts caretaker from the Harry Potter books.

The Autobot was now awake and being interrogated by a Decepticon, and had she been able to without getting herself caught and killed, Aria would have laughed herself silly.

For a moment, she thought that the interrogator was a femme. How could she not? The Decepticon had these ridiculously _high_ high-heels and spoke in this shrill, almost pitchy, voice, like a cat that was being sat on. Then she realized that 'she' was really a 'he' because he wasn't shaped like the lithe Autobot femme, Arcee, was and his voice did have a masculine—however faint and almost nonexistent—timbre to it.

Aria's face was now colored a beet red from her attempts to hide her mirth, thousands of insulting jokes springing to mind at the Decepticons' appearance. _How can anyone take him seriously in those heels?_ she thought. _And that voice…is he gay?_

The seeker—since that's what she assumed he was because of his wings—was majorly gray with some white on his helm like skunk stripes and a little red point in the front that stuck up like a unicorn's horn or something. More smothered laughter. Right now he was pacing in front of the Autobot, apparently taunting him with some information.

"…Our inside man is already inside," he taunted.

Autobot was not seemingly in the slightest intimidated. "Tell Megatron he's fragged in the head if he thinks Bulkhead won't sniff out an imposter," he spat.

 _Yeah buddy! You tell that wannabe Gaylord how it is!_ Aria silently cheered and applauded.

Said 'Gaylord' growled, apparently not appreciating the white mech's remark. "Haven't you heard? I lead the Decepticons now," he said proudly, brandishing his claws dramatically, as the unknown eavesdropper almost choked on her own spit, stuck between amusement and disbelief.

Evidently, the Autobot mech felt the same way as he snorted out, laughing, "You?! Ha!"

The Deceptions' so called 'leader' growled, going to slash at the Autobot mech with his long, pointy claws when he was held back by the silent Decepticon 'Slenderman' wannabe, from behind. Hissing like an angry cat, the high-heeled freak yanked his servo away. "Yes! Yes, he may yet be of use," he agreed, reigning in his easily ignited temper. "Makeshift is very good at keeping up appearances."

It was hilarious how retarded he was. He reminded her a lot of those the villains, Doctor Drakken and Doctor Eggman, from the kids' shows, Kim Possible and Sonic X, who would boast loudly about their plans for world domination, then immediately have their 'evil' plans thwarted in the next second by the protagonist(s). The bot, however, did not share her amusement, seemed to be losing some of his former bravado as the screechy mech continued to croon. "He need only fool your friends long enough to open their Ground Bridge from within, so that I may finally learn the location of the Autobot base and send in my strike team to stain its floor with the spilled energon of Optimus Prime."

In that moment, Aria's previous mirth evaporated and was replaced with an intensely focused rage, aimed all at the fragging Decepticon priss before her. Dangling someone else's loved ones over their head was never okay with her.

With some difficulty, the flaxen-haired young woman forced herself to retreat back through the vents. Shit was just about to hit the fan folks.

* * *

—Later—

Countless wars have been fought over misunderstandings, tragic mistakes, misperceptions, that turn people against each other forever. Of course, it's not so tragic when you're the one creating the misunderstanding.

And that is how time found a certain young woman once again crawling through the air ducts.

Aria had just succeeded in pilfering everything that she could from the guardhouse. At least, that was what she assumed that it was. Of course stealing the Autobots weapons back turned out to be no easy feat, but after awhile, she managed anyway; stubbornness always triumphed in the end.

Now she was making her way back through the musty ventilation system toting a rather odd 'sleigh' behind her; because of the sheer size and weight of the two katanas and grenade, circumstances forced Aria to improvise. A little hesitantly, she had wrapped both blades with her jacket, sharp sides facing inward, and zipped it up with the handles facing her. Then she had placed the grenade on top and tied some kind of cord she had also stolen around the habaki, or blade collar, of each sword and finally secured it all by tying the arms of her jacket loosely around the makeshift rope.

Of course, all that now stood in her way were three things: strength, silence, and smarts.

That Autobot better be damn grateful to her when this was over. She had more or less risked life and limb to get this stuff.

Finally, Aria reached the grate and peered down; the Screamer was back. Luckily for her though, it seemed that 'Mister tall, dark and silent' was not in the room.

 _Good_ , she thought maliciously. _It's time for pandemonium._

Making sure to keep low, she whispered in a haunting, sing-song voice, "Staarrrrscreeaammm…. Staaarrrrrrscreeeaaaaammmm…."

At least, that was what she had guessed was his name from a conversation she had overheard between two drones as they passed beneath the vent she was hiding in.

Immediately, the grey seeker stopped mid-sentence, tensed, looking around wildly. "What? Who—who's there?" the flyer demanded, bright-red optics darting around for the source of the voice.

"It's your conscious Starscream," Aria replied in the same low, moaning voice; she had to shove a fist in her mouth to keep from laughing. "You've been a very bad mech, haven't you Screamer?"

"Don't call me that!" he yowled automatically, grasping his helm as if it would help.

The Autobot however, played along perfectly, seeming to have caught onto her plan. He just looked over at the 'Con a little confused and amused. "Having a nice trip from sanity, Screamer?" he teased causing the seeker to growl furiously.

It was time to add a little more doubt. Before he could make another movement toward the Autobot, Aria hissed, "You know you're plan is going to fail…Your inside man has been discovered…He's going to betraaayy yooouuu…"

"Shut up! Shut up!" Starscream yelled frantically, clutching his helm so hard that you could hear his claws scraping against it.

But she didn't. "You're going to fail… the troops,…they don't trust you…don't respect…don't _fear_ you like they do _**him**_. You'll never be as good as _**him**_ …You see the way they look at you…how they watch you…waiting for you to fail… you will _**never**_ be good enough."

"SHUT UP!" Starscream screamed to the stars, living perfectly up to his name.

Just then, a pair of Vechicons rushed in, drawn no doubt by all the yelling. "Sir what's—?"

"Nothing!" he roared. "You! Stay here and guard the prisoner." And with that, the high-heeled freak stormed out.

 _Shame, I was quite hoping he'd stick around._

With the less than intelligent Decepticon leader out of the way, Aria immediately set to work on the second part of her plan, carefully removing the metal bars in front of her.

Another fun fact about Decepticons: the guards never look up. It probably had to do something with the fact that they seemed to have all the fliers on their side.

Quietly placing the grate to the side, Aria managed to drop to the floor without a sound, right behind one of the 'Cons. For a moment, she just stood perfectly still, fearing that one of them had heard her, but neither gave any inclination that they had. The white Autobot however took notice of her immediately, bright blue optics widening at the sight. Catching his blue ones with her own steely-grey, she flashed him a wide Cheshire cat grin and made a shushing motion. Eventually, he seemed to snap out of his dazed stupor and blinked fractionally, managing a minute nod as well.

Noiselessly extracting one of her staffs and gripping it firmly in her mouth, she carefully began to climb up one of the Vechicons.

Fun fact number three: Cybertronians, especially Vechicons, rarely ever feel if a tiny organic is climbing on them. As she scampered up the unsuspecting alien's body, nearing its neck, she sent a silent thank you to Ratchet for the impromptu Cybertronian anatomy lessons, however brief they were.

Somewhere in the back ground, Aria heard the white mech make some movements like he was struggling against his bonds.

"You're not going anywhere, Autobot," the other guard snarled, taking a couple steps forward and shoving a gun in the bots' face; that turned out to be a fatal mistake.

Finally, she reached her intended goal: the energon lines right near his neck. Making sure not to do anything too stupid just yet, Aria precariously held on to the metal giant with one hand, while using the other to take firm hold of the baton from her mouth, and transformed it into a long knife. Not even pausing to consider what she was about to do, she swiftly brought the knife down and plunged it straight down into the vital energon line. At the same time, as the drone tried to walk away, the mech had seized ahold of the drone with his legs and proceeded to choke him, using the Eradicon's panicked and wild firing to shoot out the controls to his manacles.

"Blah, blah, blah," he taunted giving one last squeeze to the 'Con's neck. There was a loud screech then… _SNAP!_ The sound issued from the black and purple Eradicon's neck, and the thin red visor on its face went dark; neither drone really even got the chance to scream before eventually falling to the floor, dead.

Aria probably should not have felt so calm, but she didn't even feel a speck of regret for what she had done. She just did a flip off the lifeless body before it crashed to the ground beside the other unmoving husk, and landing lithely on her own two feet, sheathing her short staff as the white colored Autobot landed rather gracefully on the floor as well.

In spite of the fact that she had witnessed two deaths, one at her own hands, the blonde-haired girl could not help but allow a slight smirk at her little victory. "Ding, ding! Third floor! Body chains, roach food, torture devices!" Aria greeted the 'Bot dryly. "Hey buddy, you seen an Autobot around here lately?" she asked jokingly, sauntering up to his feet.

"I dunno. What's he look like?" the mech retorted, playing along as he gingerly worked feeling back into his wrists.

The blonde girl shrugged. "Mostly white mech with orange and green details, about yay tall, usually carries around these wicked looking katanas. Ya seen him?"

"Yeah, I think so. They're throwing him a welcoming party right now. It's a couple doors down from here if you wanna go."

"Great! Let's go crash a party then!"

The Autobot let out a low chuckle, allowing what looked like a tiny smirk to grace his scarred lip-plates. "Nice, sharp sense of humor you got there, Tiny. I like it."

"The name's Aria to you, Ninjabot," she intoned firmly, striding over to the vent she had appeared out of. Thankfully, she had been smart enough to lower the makeshift rope before she had helped get rid of the guards. "And you better be…damn...grateful to me….for getting your stuff too," she grunted as she pulled and yanked the stuff out of the vent for him to grab.

"Nice," he whistled lowly, taking hold of his armaments and placing them in the proper places on his person after giving each a brief inspection. "Not too bad, Tiny. Saves me the trouble of getting them, though I still would have liked to pound a couple dents into some 'Cons myself."

Aria rolled her eyes impatiently. "I'm sure there will be plenty more for you to beat up, Ninjabot. Now come on, let's go."

He raised an optic ridge. "So you have a plan to get us out then too?"

The girl froze trying to withhold a flinch. "No…not really. I didn't really plan past getting you out."

"So you're an improviser. Good, you and I might just get along then after all," he mused.

"That remains to be seen," she mumbled before asking louder, "You got a name Ninjabot?"

"Yeah, it's Wheeljack."

* * *

—Later—

As of five minutes ago, Aria was now officially on the verge of a panic attack. Wheeljack had come up with an easy enough plan only problem was…it involved her getting into him in something he called a 'sparkling hold'. It was more or less a very cramped, very dark place in his chest. Aria fit in there easily, no problem, but there was just one small issue: Aria had a deep seeded fear of dark, cramped places. She never showed her fear of course but the undeniable fear was always there, always lurking, always waiting to rear its ugly head.

For the sake of getting out alive, Aria had complied, albeit hesitatingly, and gotten in; but now she could feel her heart pounding uncontrollably against her chest, her breath coming in short bursts. Trying not to succumb to the fear, she closed her grey eyes and tried to figure out what was going on outside her little space of fear and trepidation; her sharp mind walked her through the plan once more.

 _Okay, let's see…_

 _Step One: I get into….Skip._

 _Step Two: Wheeljack finds a way out and climbs on the outside of the ship to avoid the 'Con, Soundwave's, attention. Meanwhile, I'm…Next step please._

 _Step Three: Wheeljack engages Starshit's armada and tries not to kill…Moving on._

 _Step Four: Try to make it through a safe Ground Bridge without…Fast forward._

 _Step Five: If we somehow manage to make it into base and Team Prime hasn't been killed yet, Wheeljack boots out the traitor while trying not to get us both…_

Aria's eyes snapped open. _Okay, never mind, maybe thinking of the plan wasn't such a great idea_.

The space started to feel as though it was closing in around her, getting dizzyingly smaller and smaller; her entire body started to tremble. Blood now pounded in her eardrums. She felt as though her lungs couldn't get enough oxygen. She was going to die.

Forcefully closing her eyes this time and trying to ignore the sway of her body as the bot around her walked, Aria determinedly tried listening closely to what was happening beyond her surrounding cage of metal.

Straining to hear once more, she caught the sound of a voice, seemingly distant from the confines of her enclosure.

"Are you certain we are at the coordinates you supplied to Makeshift?" A familiar scratchy voice asked. It was Megatron's bitch. It must have been Soundwave who replied because Starscream then demanded, "Then, what is taking him?" He sounded like one of those whiny little kids who kept asking their parents "Are we there yet?"

Smoothly, Wheeljack took that as his cue. "Maybe they gave your boy such a hero's welcome, he got the warm and fuzzies and decided to switch sides," he drawled lowly with an evident rumbling snarl in his voice that said "I'm back baby! Get ready for some retribution!"

There was a grinding of metal and it made her think of the sound of when Optimus' facemask slid over the lower half of his faceplates.

 _We must be officially on part three of the plan_ , she assumed as she felt him walk forward.

However, whatever was going on out there, Starshit the fragging priss, as Aria dubbed him, did not sound even remotely terrified as he sneered mockingly, "Do you not see that you are _vastly outnumbered_?"

 _Ah, so now he's all big and tough now that he's got his little army behind him_ , she mentally sneered at the frankly pathetic Cybertronian.

Wheeljack didn't miss a beat. "I see fellas who might _vastly_ _enjoy_ watching me pound some dents into you."

Aria felt more than heard as Wheeljack cracked his knuckles, pounding his fists together.

"Destroy him!" the self-proclaimed Decepticon leader screeched.

There was a chorus of _SHING!_ 's and she knew that he had drawn out his blades; the Decepticons were in for a world of hurt. Not knowing what else to do, the girl tried to mentally and physically brace herself.

* * *

—Wheeljack's POV—

Strolling toward the small army of 'Cons with purposeful intent in his steps, Wheeljack drew his blades, lavishing for a moment in the familiar sound of drawing them and the accompanying feel of their perfectly balanced weight in his servos. Crossing the katanas in front of him and baring the flat of them at his enemies, he charged them with a hoarse cry as the 'Cons began firing at him.

Still mindful of the being nestled safely next to his sparkchamber, he ran forward blocking and reflecting blasts that headed for him. It felt a little odd to fight this way with the unusual extra weight in his chassis but he pushed through it, determined to give the filthy 'Cons before him a good thrashing.

They were going to pay for messing with him.

As he neared the amassed swarm of soon-to-be-lifeless drones, he was knocked back by a blast from that annoying, insufferable Screamer. Thankfully, he managed to flip and land on his pedes, knowing that his stunts probably weren't appreciated by his passenger.

Wheeljack stabbed, slashed, hacked, and altogether chopped into tiny piece, every foolish Decepticon that came within range of his blades. Finally, he saw an opening and leapt, landing right on top of Starscream with a solid punch to the faceplates. But before he could even attempt to behead the screechy, high-heeled freak, the sound of a Ground Bridge opening up nearby drew his attention.

"Well, well," he drawled lowly. "Looks like it's your lucky day Starscream." And with that, he took off toward the glowing green portal, sailing through just in time to knock his evil 'twin' to the ground with an effective kick from behind and send whatever the 'Con had in his servo, flying.

Wheeljack only briefly took notice of the bots surrounding him, including his best friend Bulkhead, as the imposter slammed into a wall; he kneeled briefly to look at the three beings similar to the one in his sparkling hold, including the one Bulkhead had expertly caught and set down gently.

"I'd shut that hole before the stink comes through," he said as he stood tall once more, sheathing his swords.

The imposter got up as one of the bots did as he suggested, the fraud drawing his blades and facemask sliding into place like his as he prepared to face him.

Wheeljack drew his blades once more circling the area in the middle of the floor, swords pointed at the charlatan. The white Wrecker sneered behind his metal faceguard at the other bots' sloppy form as he prepared to fight him. It was obvious that this bot was a pushover compared to him; he was going to be easy to take down if his seemingly flashy but truthfully sloppy moves were anything to go by to his trained optics.

Bulkhead, the loyal green giant that he was, pounded his fists together and made a move to join in but Wheeljack blocked his advanced with a single blade saying, "Ugly's mine."

They continued to circle each other, frames tense and ready for the other to attack. Then at the same time they stuck, swinging their blades at each other with such force Wheeljack felt his whole arm tingle with pain from the impact. Like an intricate dance of some kind, both of them dodged, duck, slashed, swiped, and generally put their all into killing the other. But Wheeljack was only toying with the imposter until the game quickly got boring and he decided to end this once and for all. After the other bot managed to knock his blade out of his hand, Jackie grabbed hold of the pretender's and kneed him in the face, prying the katana from the faker's loose grip, before smashing the pommel into the other bots' helm and knocking him to the ground.

He pointed a blade at the other bot's chassis, standing over him triumphantly as he heard Bulkhead say proudly, "That's my Jackie."

As the faker tried to get up, the white mech shoved both tips of his blades threateningly under the bot's chin before sheathing them and allowing his mouth guard to slide back. He turned to the red and white bot who was near the Ground Bridge controls. "You, hit the switch," he said. "It's time to take out the trash." As Bulkhead walked up behind him, he turned to his much larger friend and said, "All yours, buddy," as he gestured at the limp 'Con before them.

The other bot got the message instantly, picking up the entire 'Con with ease and lumbering over to the spiraling portal. No one had noticed that the Wheeljack had secretly primed the grenade at the imposter's side to blow. Bulkhead then began spinning the 'Con before throwing him with all his might through the portal.

"Nice lob," Jackie couldn't help but complement his long-time friend and fellow Wrecker as the Ground Bridge was closed once more.

"So…" he was about to say more as he turned to everyone else, when a loud banging on his chassis drew his and everyone elses' attention.

 _Oops,_ he thought. He'd forgotten about his little stowaway, he realized.

"Jackie?" Bulkhead asked in a bewildered tone looking at him as if to say "You didn't…"

Ignoring everyone's looks, he opened up his chassis to reveal the rather tousled and slightly paler looking organic femme. She slumped against the rim of the opening and he could feel her trembling slightly against his metal skin as she muttered something.

"You still alive, Tiny?" he asked, plucking her up by the back of the black material she wore.

She mumbled something else again that he didn't catch.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that."

She looked up at him from between strands of that fur hung from the femme's helm, anger evident in her stormy grey optics as she spat, "Never _ever_ fucking again."

"ARIA!" everyone else shouted in surprise.

"No shit," she continued to hiss and spit nails like an angry cat.

"Well someone's grumpy," he remarked as he set her down.

"Well you try being tossed around like a sardine in a fucking tin can!"

Immediately, Wheeljack was towering over the organic femme. "What did you say, Tiny?" he growled menacingly.

"You heard me, _Ninjabot_ ," she retorted with as much venom, valiantly not backing down as he attempted to stare her down.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

For a moment, it was completely tense and silent, as neither the white mech nor she were willing to back down. Then, just as it looked like Arcee was about to interject, she allowed her posture relax as Wheeljack did the same; they both flashed the other a smirk.

"Not too bad Tiny," he smirked at her.

"Ditto," she said while everyone around them looked completely bewildered as to what was going on.

She and Wheeljack understood though. It was a sort of silent, unspoken accord between them. A mutual respect between two warriors that they both acknowledged the other as a capable warrior.

Finally, Wheeljack turned back to everyone else. "So I take it that this femme is your saboteur?" he enquired.

Arcee, being the slight mother hen that she was, frowned. "No, she just has a habit of getting into trouble."

The mech spared a glance back at Aria. "Shame. She seemed like a damn good one. Pretty capable in a fight," he said jerking an opposable digit at her. "If Aria here was Cybertronian, she'd be a Wrecker for sure."

From just him saying that, Aria knew that there was more to the statement than just an offhand comment.

Of course, her happy moment was not to last as there came the familiar, deep, rumbling sound of a big engine.

 _Uh-oh_ , she thought, spirits plummeting and a slight panicked feeling settling in. The desire to escape was suddenly all too great. Before she could attempt to do so however, the noise of the engine was cut off and was replaced by the tell-tale sounds of a Cybertronian transformation.

He looked the same as ever. The same towering form, the same gleaming red and royal blue paint job, and the same luminescent cerulean optics. Only now this time there was a slight downturn to his lip components.

"What has happened?" the leader of the Autobot's asked, looking around at all the faces and probably sensing that something had happened in his absence.

* * *

The entire explanation took less than five minutes but during the entire time, Optimus did not look at her once, not even while she was speaking or mentioned in passing. This action caused a feeling of foreboding to creep into her stomach and settle there. Then Aria mentally shook herself. What was the matter with her? There was nothing really to fear about Optimus. After all, he had been the one to come up with the 'no harming humans' rule.

Remaining quiet, Aria watched as he seemed to absorb all the information he had been given. Eventually, he turned to the bots at large and said, "While it seemed that we will need to improve our methods of security, I am glad that you have made it to us safely Wheeljack."

Said Bot however seemed to regard the other bot with a faint wariness and distrust. However, he just shrugged nonchalantly. "Ah, I didn't do much. It was all thanks to Tiny over there that I got out in the first place," he said jerking a thumb at Aria.

Finally, Optimus looked at her.

"Aria…" came the euphonious whisper in a familiar, baritone voice.

The amount of emotion in that single spoken word was enough to cause her to freeze in place as if hit by a blast of frigid air.

Slowly, haltingly, as if almost fearful of what she would see, Aria turned to look the leader of the Autobots in the optics.

"Hey…Optimus." The words came out as a squeaky and a bit strangled sounding.

The slight downturn to his lip components that he had first worn when he had arrived seemed to curve downward a bit more.

 _Uh-oh._

Aria felt as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice-water down her spine, and though she masterfully schooled her expression into its usual expressionless mask she felt a slight feeling of dread.

"Um…how are you?" Immediately after the words left her lips, she wished she could take them back. Seriously? She had said 'how are you'? How much more lame could she sound?

Optimus, however, did not seem amused. In fact, his look seemed to darken even more though his features did not move.

"We need to talk."

 _Yep, I'm dead._

"Okay."

Ignoring the sense of impending doom looming over her, Aria walked over to Optimus, her shoulders squared, and climbed into the passenger's side of his alternative mode when he transformed, allowing him to strap her in before taking off.

For a while, they just sat in mutual silence, neither daring to break it. Optimus seemed content with just driving, seemingly with no destination in mind. After a bit though, he finally asked, "Where did you go?"

Aria had been expecting the question for some time now; people always asked it of her, so she was prepared for it.

"Out of state. I was doing a favor for my parents and a couple of friends," she answered smoothly. It wasn't a lie exactly. She had been out of state doing a favor for a couple of friends, just not people who knew her parents. Though, a couple of them did know of them.

"Couldn't your creators have done that?"

Aria shook her head. "My mother is overseas, working, and my father is paralyzed from the waist down, stuck in a wheelchair, so he can't do much." Now this was a complete and utter lie. The only reason that the words flowed so smoothly from her mouth was that this lie had been repeated so many times that she could make it sound believable enough to the point that she almost convinced herself that it was true. If only it was.

"Where did you go?" he repeated.

"Never you mind."

A gush of air came from the vent made her assume that he was sighing, but before he could say more, she butted in. "Look Optimus, I'm sorry that I disappeared without telling you, okay? It completely slipped my mind that I should have told you since you're new to the whole disappearing act thing."

"Aria, I am not mad at you—"

"Could've fooled me," she snorted.

"—I am merely disappointed at your lack of forethought. For all we knew, you could have been taken hostage by the Decepticons and we may have never known what happened.—"

"Yeah but—"

"Furthermore, you should not have engaged the Decepticons by yourself. That was a foolish and risky move on your part that may just have very well have got you killed had you been caught. You should have called to inform us, not put yourself so foolishly in harm's way."

By now, Aria was not even attempting to hide her scowl. "I knew the risks perfectly well when I made that decision, thank you very much," she hissed. "I knew that there was going to be risks, and I willingly took them, Optimus. I went in there knowing that there was a chance that I might not make it out alive, and I still took it. Death doesn't scare me Optimus. I _willingly_ took those risks into account when I made my decision, and I do not regret it whatsoever."

Silence reigned once again after those words were spoken.

"I'm not made of glass, Prime," Aria finally said, breaking the tension. "I can take care of myself."

"I never said you were nor did I say that you could not," he replied evenly. "I am merely worried for your safety. Imagine how your creators would react if Agent Fowler had to tell them that you had offlined."

 _They would be glad of it_ , she thought harshly but did not voice the statement.

"My conscience will not allow me to tolerate any human casualties in this war."

Aria had to bite her tongue to refrain from retorting that there had probably already been multiple human casualties in this war, at the Decepticons' hands.

"I do not wish to have your death on my conscience either, especially since you are my charge and therefore my responsibility."

Silently, she nodded. "I understand, but let me ask you this: If you were in my position at the time, what would you do? Call for backup and tell them not to trust the imposter, while the real bot is who knows where, having who knows what done to him? Or follow the Decepticons holding the bot hostage and try to rescue him, having faith that the team could take care of the imposter?"

Optimus did not reply and another couple minutes passed in mute silence before Aria spoke again.

"Look…Let's just agree to disagree for now, okay?"

Pausing for a moment, he finally said, "Agreed."

* * *

—Base—

"It's like a recurring nightmare," Ratchet lamented. The party that had begun at base when the imposter had showed up, was still in full swing. Miko—whom Aria had checked over and declared that she would only have slight bruising after being held so roughly by the 'Con—was playing her guitar loudly, dancing along with Jack, Raf and Bumblebee as Arcee watched, and Bulkhead and Wheeljack were conversing nearby with Optimus as Ratchet worked on the Ground Bridge with Aria silently helping but staying majorly out of sight like some friendly spook.

"Now that you're part of Team Prime, we need to pick out a vehicle mode for you. I have some ideas," Bulkhead told his friend excitedly, elbowing him playfully.

"Uh, about that, Bulk…Now that my ship's repaired, I'm itching to know what else I might find out there."

Miko, who had been apparently been listening in, immediately stopped playing and ran over, the others in tow. "Wait. You're leaving? Why?" Miko asked, eyes wide, not understanding.

Bulkhead however, while slightly downcast at the words, seemed unsurprised; he understood though. "Because some bots never change," he smiled, chuckling a little as he and Wheeljack shared a knowing look.

"Wheeljack, know that you will always have a haven here," Optimus told him earning a small smirk and nod of acknowledgement from the white mech.

Bulkhead slapped his friend on the back, smiling. "Jackie never stays, but he always comes back."

Like the good friends that they were, the duo then fist bumped and smiled at each other. Aria felt a small smile tug at her lips at the scene, but a small twinge of loneliness playing at her heart as well as she focused back on her work.

* * *

Later, the kids, Arcee, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Wheeljack and Aria found themselves bridged to the coordinates where the white mech's ship had been moved; Wheeljack's ship was all fixed up and ready to go. Aria had immediately made a beeline to where her car was parked and sighed in relief when it was still there and in one piece.

Anyway, as they all stood there to say their good-byes, Wheeljack said to Bulkhead, "There's room for two, Bulk, even with a backside like yours. Who knows who we might find out there…Some of the old crew?"

For a moment, Bulkhead looked torn, but when he glanced back at the rest of us, his optics landing on Miko, Aria knew what his decision would be.

"Heh. It sounds like fun, Jackie. But my ties are here now. With them. With her."

Miko, who had looked downcast at the thought of Bulkhead leaving too, immediately brightened. Again the two bots shared a smile that only the closest of friends could share.

Accordingly, the Bot turned his attention to Miko. "If anything happens to my favorite wrecker, I'm coming after you."

"I'll take good care of him," Miko assured him before whipping out her little pink flip-phone. "Now, say 'cheese.'"

She took a picture of the two best buddies together. Then, sending a wink and a smirk Aria's way, Wheeljack climbed into his space ship and took off into the stars.

* * *

Ta-Da! Finally! I've been wanting to post this for ages.

Anyway, you know the drill: please review, favorite, and follow this story at your lesiure.

Also, to reviewers who read this, I also have been working on another Transformers story that leans more on the movies. It's a Sideswipe x OC x Sunstreaker story. I may be posting it soon since I've gotten at least the prologue and the first three-ish chapters done. Then I can alternate between this story and that one since that seems to work for me best.

Oh and also to you lovely reviewers, I need some theoretical/opinionated questions answered if you can.

1.) What do you think would happen if you mixed all the different varieties of energon together?

2.) What name seems the best: White Wolf, Dark Phoenix, Shadow Hunter/Stalker? It's technically a title for someone, meant to inspire fear, like how they call Batman 'the Dark Knight.' If you can think up a better on let me know. Please I need opinions. Once I learn to grow a pair and learn how to make polls on here, I'll make it for people to vote on too.

3.) Do you folks want me to get a deviantart account to post pictures of characters and scenes on so you can see how Aria looks?

Please don't hate me.


	10. Road Trip

Howdy folks! I'm back! Boy! I bet some of you really want to throw me up on a stage and start throwing rotten food at me. And I will say this: I do not blame you. My excuse for this extremely late update is that I've had finals and was trying to bring up my grade last minute. I even missed my 'skip the last day of school' tradition, for crying out loud! It was worth it but...Okay now I'm rambling.

On a happier note: Summertime! Which means that I may be able to update at least 2-3 times a week now. Hooray!

Anyways, you lot are not here to read about my boring lack of a social life. Also, thank you to all who have favorited, followed, reviewed, and the like! You people rock!

 **Warning!:** Near the end contains some rather _graphic_ stuff, so if you have a queasy stomach, _**brace yourself**_.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not in any way, shape, form, or deviation, own Transformers: Prime.

Now read, review, and relax.

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Road Trip**

A couple weeks later, the kids and I were hanging out at the Autobot base again. The kids were having a good time, talking and goofing off on one of the raised platforms while I quietly sat in a dark corner, observing the proceedings while as I played absentmindedly with one of my batons, twirling it over and over in my hand like some kind of ritual. Our peace, however, was shattered by a familiar—rude—voice yelling on the monitor. -{ **Prime!** _ **Prime!**_ }-

A disgruntled image of Fowler appeared on the screen. He appeared to be in some sort of jet, with the fuzzy outlines of snowcapped mountains visible in the background.

Confused as the rest of us as to the occasion of the call, Optimus stepped forward with Arcee following in his wake and addressed the agent in a polite tone. "Special Agent Fowler? To what do we owe—"

-{ **What else?** }- Fowler growled, obscenely interrupting him. -{ **Cons! I chased them off with some hard ordnance, but not before they** _ **blew**_ **me out of the sky!** }-

He said it like it was somehow the Bots' fault.

A frown graced my lips at the words; the twirling of the baton slowed slightly. How did they even find him? That seemed highly unusual and altogether unlikely as they had already tried to capture Fowler before. Not to mention that, from what I understood, the Decepticons usually aimed to kill other species that they deemed inferior.

Up on one of the catwalks, Miko snickered at Fowler's words. "Again?" she smirked.

Fowlers' image on the screen flickered slightly, though his hard expression didn't change. -{ **They tried to smash-and-grab for the DNGS.** }-

At the name, I sat up a little straighter, interest piqued. Sheathing the short staff in its holster at my side, I turned to focus all my attention on the monitors, listening and watching closely so as to not miss any details. Until this moment, I had only heard rumors of this so-called 'clean energy' government project. Now, having received actual confirmation that this project actually existed, I was hungry to hear more about it.

However, everyone else, on the other hand, was predictably confused by the acronym.

"The whatzit?" Arcee asked, optic ridge raised as she cocked her helm slightly to the side in confusion.

-{ **Dynamic Nuclear Generation System, AKA, DNGS.** }- Fowler corrected, enunciating the words carefully before going to press some kind of button above the camera so that an image of a heavy duty box strapped down in what looked like some kind of room, appeared on the screen for a minute before switching back. -{ **It's a prototype energy source that I'm porting to the coast for testing.** }-

 _Yeah because we really need a repeat of Chernobyl and Fukushima_ , I thought.

Ratchet, however, seemed more concerned as to the reason behind the attack rather than the dangers of nuclear technology. "That's absurd," he scoffed in his usual manner. "Why would Starscream bother with such primitive technology?"

-{ **I'm guessing to make a big, fat, primitive, weapon of mass destruction.** }- the dark-skinned man replied bluntly. -{ **If this baby were to melt down, it would eradiate this state and the four next door.** }-

"Sheesh Fowler, you certainly don't sugarcoat things," I snorted in a low undertone, earning a slight admonishing look from my appointed guardian, who was thankfully the only one that heard. Hey I call it like I see it.

Rafael, on the other hand, looked worried. "Uh, did Agent Fowler say what state he was currently in?" he asked tremulously, though no one answered.

-{ **I'm a sitting duck here, Prime. I need you to spin up your Ground Bridge and send the DNGS to its destination before the Cons come back for it.** }-

My grey eyes widened. How stupid could this agent be? Nuclear technology was extremely volatile. That and combining the transport method of the Ground Bridge…

Optimus seemed to have spotted the same problem. "I am afraid that moving such a volatile device through a Ground Bridge is out of the question," he said. "If there were to be an accident during its transmission, the radiation of which you speak could propagate through the Ground Bridge vortex and harm all fifty states and beyond." The finality in his tone left no room for argument.

-{ **You got any better ideas?** }- Fowler asked.

No one said a thing. None of them seemed to have any ideas. Honestly, a room full of highly advanced beings and no ideas whatsoever? Now that's just sad.

Deciding to save them all from any potential harm of thinking too hard, I stepped forward. "I do!"

Everyone turned to me in surprise.

"Who's up for a road trip?"

* * *

—Road in the Sierra Mountains—

A couple hours later, Optimus's alternative mode now sat idling near the crash site of Fowler's jet with a new trailer hooked up to his alt-mode; Bulkhead and Bumblebee were nearby, also in their alt- modes. A beautiful expanse of green scenery surrounded us on either side, nothing like dry wasteland of Jasper.

I was already sitting comfortably in Optimus's passenger seat when Fowler climbed in and strapped himself into the driver's seat, rubbing his hands together in excitement before making an attempt to grab for the steering wheel.

"Ah-ah! No need, Agent Fowler. I will handle the driving," Optimus told the agent before he could even lay a finger on the wheel.

Effectively, Fowler slouched back in his seat with a pouty look on his face. "It's gonna be a long trip," he grumbled, his arms crossed.

I had to hide a smirk. Optimus: one; Agent of foulness: zero.

-{ **We are locked on to your coordinates, Optimus.** }- Ratchet said over the comms unit. -{ **Barring any complications, you should reach the drop-off point by sundown.** }-

"Understood. Autobots, roll out!" And we were off.

* * *

—Later—

The drive was…interesting, to say the least. I found myself torn between exasperation and annoyance with Fowler. He was like one of those kids who could not stop poking and prodding at things, both figuratively and literally.

First, he had started sending me curious looks every once in a while. Then it escalated into pointed glares every five minutes or so. Finally, the agent started shooting random, and partially rude, questions at me.

"How old are you?"

"Are you even out of school yet?"

"Why are wearing so much leather?"

Closing my eyes, I could feel as my nails dug into the seat underneath me, my patience waning. I took a deep breath—inhaling the scent of leather and metal—before opening my eyes and answering in an even voice. "In order: first, you should never ask a woman her age, lest you lose something important. Second, no but why should you care? Three: because I feel like it."

For a bit, Fowler was silent. Then, his gaze drifted to my baton.

"Why do you carry those sticks anyway?" he asked.

I raised a brow. "My _batons_ , you mean?"

He nodded, looking genuinely interested. I could tell that even Optimus was interested, listening intently though he didn't say anything.

I sighed. "I use my batons because people are too reliant on guns. They make people stupid. With these…They make you think before you act; calculate your next move. Trust me: they're pretty handy to have around."

The government agent went silent for a while after that, and Optimus didn't say anything either, though I could practically feel him bubbling with questions.

Having apparently quelled any further questions, I turned my gaze back to the blurred scenery outside. But, as bushes and trees flew by, I didn't really comprehend what my eyes were seeing; it all meant nothing. Soon enough, the blurred greenery had lulled me into a sort of trance and I found myself remembering a similar view from a long time ago.

—Flashback—

 _Bushes, trees, and grass sped passed the passenger's side window in a blur of emerald and jade._

" _Dammit Aria! What were you thinking?" the sandy-haired man cursed, pounding the wheel in frustration as he drove._

 _A much younger and slightly less scarred Aria glared out the window. She had to be no more than seven or eight at the time; the scars on her face, as fresh and new as they were, made her look downright terrifying for a child._

" _I did what needed to be done," she said contemptuously. "Someone needed to stand up to him, so I did." You could hear the conviction in her tone, strong and firm; she sounded like an adult stuck in a child's body._

 _The man shot her a brief glare before turning back to the road. Aria could practically see the vein throbbing in his temple and hear his teeth grinding as he tried to repress the tirade he no doubt desperately wanted to give. "So you went and talked back to the old man?"_

" _Yes," she grunted with a hard look in place._

" _Dammit!" he cursed again, slamming his fist into the wheel so hard that it rattled. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"_

 _Finally, Aria turned to look at him, anger flashing in her grey eyes. "And what would you have me do? Just sit there and put up with it until the day I die?!" she exploded. "You know I'm not that kind of person. If I have to die one way or another, I choose to go out fighting. I choose to go out my way."_

 _The man said nothing. For a moment, it looked as if he was going to yell at her. Then, he sighed._

" _Kid, I didn't say it was going to be easy but if you're not careful you're gonna end up dead."_

" _I know," she replied quietly._

—Flashback End—

* * *

I am really starting to think that Fowler is ADHD because in less than a couple minutes he had then turned his attention to other…matters; such as bullying other drivers on the road.

"Move it, Gramps!" Fowler hollered, blasting the horn multiple—unnecessary—times as the small, rickety little white pick-up truck trundled along in front of us driving at a slow, country bumpkin, Sunday driver's pace.

Finally, the driver of the pick-up seemed to have enough of Fowler's harrying and pulled off the road.

The government agent went to hit the wheel again for good measure when I reached over and caught his arm. "Don't," I said, shooting him a warning look before releasing him.

Optimus seemed to sigh infinitesimally. "Agent Fowler, is that really necessary?"

"Aw, don't tell me you're one of them textbook drivers," he grumped.

"It's better to be safe than sorry Fowler," I said, turning to him. "Besides, we don't need to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves if you're right and the Decepticons are after the DNGS."

He turned to me with a glare. "What do you mean ' _if I'm right_?' The 'Cons attacked me for Pete's sake!"

I met his glare with a neutral look before looking back out the window. Some people just believe so whole heartedly in something that they are blind to the truth till it slaps them in the face; it's useless to argue with them; better to get out of the way so as not to be trampled.

Silence reigned for a bit again.

"You know, you're saving my bacon here, Prime," Fowler said grudgingly, eyes flicking between the radio and staring straight ahead.

I blinked in surprise. _Fowler_? Giving a _complement_?

I peered out the window, looking for flying pigs.

"I am proud to be of service," Autobot leader replied humbly but apparently pleased with Fowlers' positive change in demeanor.

Of course, then the government agent had to go and shove his foot in his mouth. "'Course, not like I'd need your help if you and the Cons had stuck to tearing up your own corner of the galaxy."

I rolled my slate grey eyes, turning my attention back to the scenery outside the window. He could never just give a complement without adding in an insult to it could he?

"Are you suggesting that no evil existed on your world before we arrived?" Optimus countered causing my lips to twitch.

"Uh-Well, it was a…different kind of evil," Fowler replied awkwardly before changing the subject in an attempt to cover up his blunder. "How about some radio? You seem like a Nashville-sound kind of guy."

Suddenly, the sound of helicopter blades could be heard flying close overhead. Fowler peered out the window at the rearview mirror and his eyes widened. "That's the one! The 'Con who shot me down! Who is he? Wingnut? Dingbat? Skyguy?"

With each of the names he listed, the man made bizarre gestures and I couldn't help it: I rolled my eyes with uncontainable exasperation. "Fowler, I highly doubt that there would be a 'Con named after a character from TMNT, or that they literally would be calling themselves stupid, or that they are Anakin Skywalker from Star Wars."

-{ **Watch your rearviews.** }- Bulkhead said over the walkie-talkie Fowler had; these heavily armored, green and black vehicles sped up from behind and started boxing him in. -{ **Feeling a little constricted without the use of my fists here, boss.** }-

"Remain in vehicular mode unless absolutely necessary," Optimus ordered firmly.

"A whole team of 'Cons," Fowler concluded, looking at the mirror.

On the other end of the com-link, I could hear Ratchet make a choking sound. -{ **What? I'm not picking up anything. They must be utilizing a cloaking technology.** }-

In my mind however, I remained more skeptical; I highly doubted that Starscream would change the Decepticons' color scheme on a mere whim.

One of the cars sped up and pulled in front of Bee who was in in front of us. In retaliation, Bee shifted to the left and the car moved to block him again.

Then, my suspicions I had had from the very beginning, were finally confirmed when another one of the green cars sped up alongside of us and the sunroof of the vehicle slid open to reveal a man decked out from head to toe in Kevlar armor, gun raised and aimed directly at Fowlers' face.

"Pull over!" he commanded over the rush of wind.

"Well, I'll be dipped!" Fowler exclaimed with the window rolled down as he gapped at the man.

"Our assailants are not Decepticons; they are human," Optimus told the others, earning faint exclamations from the kids. I think it was Raf and Jack.

In the background, I heard Miko say -{ **Oh, please. Taking on our bots? They're roadkill!** }-

The guy raised his gun and I realized what was going on five seconds before it did. "Optimus move!"

Thankfully, he didn't question my order and swerved before Fowler could have his face blown off, slamming into the car and causing them to miss and a huge explosion to go off.

"Who are these guys?" the African American man asked stupidly.

"The enemy," I called pulling out one of my batons. "What else."

"Autobots," Optimus called over the radio, "maintain your cover and apply minimal force. Disarmament only."

"Easier said than done, Optimus!" I snapped, not really meaning to take my temper out on the bot, but I couldn't help it; I hate being shot at.

Overhead, we could still hear the chopping of helicopter blades as whoever it was persistently pursued us. In the rearview mirror on my side, another green and black car could be seen zooming up alongside us as another lackey, identical to the previous one, popped out of the sunroof with his gun raised. Thankfully, before he could fire, Bumblebee's tires screeched and with a flurry of sparks, smashed his backend into the nose of the car behind. The force of the blow only sent it skidding backwards a bit before the tires gained traction again and the pursuer sped up. The man took aim again. This time, Bee let the car get far enough forward before he pulled an Optimus and buffeted the car in the side. Persistently, I could see all the while as the man peeking out the top held on for dear life but did not retreat. Finally, careening left and right in an attempt to stabilize its forward motion, the back tire hit a rock on the side of the road, and the car was sent tumbling in a screech of metal, causing its fellows to swerve out of the way; I had no idea what happened to the gunman.

Apparently, this act only fueled the determination of our other pursuers as they doggedly kept pace with us.

By this time, we were forced to take defensive measures and I could hear the squealing of the tires on Optimus' trailer behind us as we took some sharp turns around a couple tight corners.

All the while, I managed to stay perfectly still in my seat, only leaning slightly to the side with the momentum of a particularly forceful turn.

Fowler however…

"Could use some air," the federal agent groaned, his dark skin taking on a slight greenish pallor.

Apparently not wanting the man to be sick in his cab, Optimus obligingly rolled down his window.

I wanted to scream at him, to tell him no, but a particularly violent swerve managed to unbalance me and I accidentally bit my tongue, _hard_ ; the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth.

The suit leaned against the open window and the air rushing past seemed to revive him as his attention snapped to something behind us. From what I could see in the mirror on Fowlers side, it looked as if one of the Kevlar coated lackeys had valiantly climbed into the space between Optimus and the trailer in an attempt to detach it.

"Prime! Bear right!" Fowler called.

Optimus did as he was told and I could see as the guy fell backwards but managed to not be detached, pulling himself back in. His getaway right, however, was sent careening off the road.

I took that as my cue. Quickly unbuckling myself, I moved to open the door.

"Aria! What do you think you're doing?!" Fowler called over the roar of the wind outside as I managed to open the door before Optimus could lock it.

"Getting rid of a hitchhiker," I replied, ignoring both Optimus' and Fowlers' protests to come back as I shut the door and began carefully creeping along the side of Optimus' alt-mode. My unrestrained hair fluttered around in my face as I will not say how, because I honestly have no idea, but I somehow managed not to be sent flying and turned into bug-paste on someone's windshield. I found our little guest furiously working away at the connectors, or whatever it was that hooked the trailer to Optimus, with some kind of laser-blowtorch-thingy. I honestly had no idea what it was called because at the moment I did not care.

Thankfully, his back was turned to me so he neither heard nor saw me coming up behind him until it was too late and I had grabbed hold of the back of the collar of his top. Forcefully, I yanked him out so that he was dangling in midair with only my firm grip on his shirt keeping him from falling, as his gun was sent sailing.

A second too late, the man was struggling to make me release my grip on him as I fixed him with my best glare.

"You're better tell me everything I want to kno—"

He managed to grab ahold of the arm with the bandage on it and immediately I released my hold on the guy who was airborne for a moment before being lost from view in a matter of seconds.

"God fucking dammit," I cursed though the sound was lost in the wind. Defeatedly, I climbed back into Optimus' cab and securely fasten myself in.

Before either Fowler or Optimus could say a thing however, a smooth voice came over the radio. -{ **I do hope you take better care of the DNGS than you do your captives.** }-

The government agent eyed the trailing copter outside before answering. "Special Agent William Fowler here. Identify yourself!"

-{ **This does not sound like the young lady who took out one of my men.** }-

"That is not an—Hey!" Fowler cried out as I snatched the walkie-talkie from his grasp.

"Excuse him. Many people don't care enough to bother with polite pleasantries anymore these days I'm afraid, Mister…?" I said just as smoothly as the man on the other end, leaving the question open.

-{ **That is quite alright my dear. Now, if I were to get an introduction, I would be more inclined to tell you who I am.** }-

"Phoenix Darknight," I lied effortlessly. "But please, call me Nix for short. And you are?"

-{ **Interesting.** }- he mused but didn't say more on the subject. -{ **Very well. I am Silas. But of greater consequence to you,** _ **we**_ **are MECH. Fair warning: we will be helping ourselves to your device, even if it means inflicting casualties.** }-

He sounded like he had practiced this little speech in front of his mirror every day.

"Is that so? Well, I'm sorry Silas, but I can't allow that." I tossed the walkie-talkie back to Agent Fowler and beginning to rummage through the many pockets on my jacket.

Fowler shot me a glare before turning back to the device. "So tell me, Si, what's the market price for a DNGS these days?"

I facepalmed. _Idiot! Why would you tell him that?_

-{ **What makes you think we intend to sell it, Agent Fowler?** }- Silas replied in a hard tone but with a slight smile to his voice. -{ **There's a war brewing: between the new world order and the newest. The victor will be the side armed with the most innovative technology.** }- His last words sounded almost loving, similar to how Gollum from _Lord of the Rings_ would caress the ring and say 'My precious.'

Quietly, I snorted. He may have used big, fancy words but they were easy enough to understand: classic take over the world lines.

Glancing out the rearview, I watched as one of the few remaining cars drove right behind Optimus trailer and one of the lackey's stood up and took aim at the back of the trailer with his gun raised.

It was too late to stop him.

 _BANG! BANG! BANG!_ We could hear the resounding quick procession of shots being fired even from our position as something heavy hit the metal door.

The gunman then did something on the side of his gun and— _BOOM!_ The force of the controlled explosion could be felt shaking Optimus' entire frame.

"Prime, you alright?" I called concernedly, because if we could feel such a small explosion from inside Optimus' cab then he definitely felt it.

"I am fine."

I didn't bother correcting him on his use of the word 'fine'; I could do that later.

"So, Si, you think MECH has all the most radical tech?" Fowler said in a gloating tone as we watched as the gunman now stood precariously on the hood of the moving car, looking ready to jump into the trailer as they sped closer.

Suddenly, a new engine entered the fray and Arcee sped into action landing on the hood of the too-close car and causing the man to go flying and the vehicle to skid and overturn as Arcee did a neat one-eighty and pulled alongside Bulkhead as the out-of-control car crashed into another and sent that one flying. I watched as the car exploded, sending a trail of black smoke rising into the air.

"Later, Si," the African American man smirked cockily into the black device before terminating the connection.

My lips visibly turned downwards at his foolhardiness.

Optimus apparently agreed because he said, "Agent Fowler, do not take your 'Silas' lightly. Megatron preached the very same ideology before plunging Cybertron into the Great War that destroyed our world."

"Joseph Stalin and Adolf Hitler also preached similar things too and look what happened under their hand," I added helpfully thinking of that time I had visited the Holocaust Museum and had been in the room with the large piles of shoes of all the victims and had seen a sculpting of people being packed into a room to be gassed en masse like pigs for slaughter; I remember that I had actually had a couple sleepless nights after going there.

Fowler gave me a look that said 'I don't need a history lesson.' But before he could say anything the communications line buzzed to life.

-{ **Optimus, prepare to initiate Phase Two. Five miles ahead to the South, you will reach the rendezvous point.** }- Ratchet's voice said.

Those words should have been a relief to hear but I had a feeling that the worst was yet to come.

"There's our destination point," Fowler said as I continued to peer behind us for our pursuers. So far, aside from Bulkhead, they were keeping a pretty far back behind us; Arcee and Bumblebee took point in front of us.

"Autobots, keep a tight formation," Optimus commanded as Arcee was the first to jump off the road and into a tunnel, the rest of us following. To the right, a train came zipping up alongside of us.

"Time to make the switch," I said as I briefly noted Bulkhead stopping to transform and shoot the tunnels' entrance supports to give us more time.

This little bit of skullduggery had been my idea, as had been putting Arcee in Optimus' trailer with the Generation System as a second line of defense. The plan was to have the bots place the DNGS onto the train to confuse any potential pursuers into following us while it was safely transported to its real destination.

I could practically hear Silas' smooth voice as he said, 'Tactical error; only one way out', as he triumphantly convinced himself that he had outmaneuvered us. Soon enough, the switch was complete and we were exiting the tunnel.

Suddenly, the sound of engines could be heard overhead, but they weren't those of a helicopters'.

"Air support?" Fowler called hopefully. "Ours or theirs?"

 _Neither_ , I thought, trying to keep an impassive face watching as six Eradicons in V-mode flew overhead.

-{ **Optimus, you have company!** }-

"No Shit!" I screeched back though I'm not sure that Ratchet heard me as the lead drone fired at Optimus' trailer.

The Autobots tried to move out of the way our erratic maneuvering sending everyone skidding. The heavy thudding and clunking sounds told me that Optimus' trailer had been detached so he could get away in time. There was a deafening explosion from behind and I knew that the missiles had hit it.

 _Well, there goes our ruse_ , I thought disparagingly.

Up ahead, we could see a cliff. All of us made for it as the Eradicons transformed and landed in front of us when we pulled three-sixty maneuvers to face them.

"Agent Fowler," Optimus said. "I'm afraid that if you and we are to survive, it has become absolutely necessary to drop our cover."

Knowing what was coming, I screeched, "Hold on to your buttocks!" Then he transformed with us still inside. Unlike last time, the queasiness that came with being inside Optimus as he transformed quickly abated after I landed in his servo. Fowler however, being a first-timer, was still on his hands and knees, looking a tad greenish as Optimus held us both gently in his servos.

Overhead, I watched as the copter circled like a hawk and I could almost imagine that I saw Silas' silhouette in the glass. I wondered what he must be thinking.

"Remain here," the Autobot leader commanded as he set us gently down on some rocks overlooking the scene, out of harm's way; I got the feeling that he had directed those words at me in particular.

"Will do," Fowler groaned and I gave a firm nod.

The other Autobots had already transformed, facing the Cons, and ready for action.

Bulkhead seemed particularly ready for a fight as he stepped forward. "After a long road trip, it feels good to get out of the car, stretch my legs…and kick some tailpipe!" he said, pounding his fists together before transforming his right servo into a mace. And with that, the Autobots charged the Decepticons.

I watched, a bit in awe as Optimus, with his much longer legs charged forth and slammed his fist into an unlucky Con. Bulkhead jumped over and cracked another over the head with his hefty mace. Arcee meanwhile was using her small size to her advantage, duking it out with another Con, kicking, hitting and punching her opponent with an agile grace. Bumblebee also had his servos full with his fists up like a boxer, facing down his opponent and ducking the Decepticons' strikes before getting in his own hits. Deciding to turn my attention back to my guardian, I felt the muscles in the corners of my mouth strain with the effort not to smile. Despite his size, he was quite graceful, fluidly dodging his adversary's strikes before pounding him into the ground and swinging back to hit the other coming up behind him.

Meanwhile, the MECH copter was still circling overhead, watching the scuffle.

-{ **Miss Darknight, Special Agent Fowler, you lead charmed lives walking among titans.** }-

"Come on down. We'll introduce you," Fowler retorted.

-{ **In good time. But at the moment, I'm too busy wondering how the DNGS might have vanished into thin air without a trace.** }-

At the words, my blood went cold as Fowler and I shared a meaningful look.

 _He knows_.

Silas' next words brought us back to reality. -{ **Now if you'll excuse me, I have a train to catch.** }- And with that, the copter took off in the direction the train had gone, leaving us helpless to stop him.

Thankfully, Fowler had the brains to act immediately. "Prime!" he called through the radio as said bot continued to fend off two attackers at once. "Silas got wise to Phase Two!"

-{ **I understand.** }- he replied but in his momentary lapse of concentration one of the drones had managed to grab a log from who knows where and hit the Prime in the face sending him flying off the cliff.

"Optimus!" I screamed. I kid you not, my heart stopped for that one moment as I watched him fall. Then, as if I someone had injected me with liquid iron, I calmed down. Turning to Fowler, I saw that he was just standing there, open-mouthed at the place Optimus had been.

"Fowler," I said but he didn't respond. I tried again, more forceful this time. "Fowler!"

This time he turned to look at me.

"Listen to me soldier," I said in my best authoritative drill sergeant voice. "You need to focus, alright? Can you do that?"

He nodded slowly and I took that as a good sign.

"I need you to keep trying to radio Prime. I have faith that he's alive but I need you to keep trying to contact him okay?"

He nodded again, gulping this time. "An-And what are y-you going t-to do?" he asked weakly.

"Provide backup." I said it so confidently, I nearly convinced myself that what I was about to do wasn't about to probably get me killed. I may have fought Cybertronians before but those had merely been puppets, slaves to Megatrons will. But these…these were living, thinking sentient beings, more capable of killing me than any zombie.

Fowler just nodded and listened to my command. I don't think that he really understood what I was saying. Anyways, I carefully started making my way down from our perch, trying to be as quick as possible but not accidentally kill myself. Eventually, I made it to the ground in one piece. Grabbing my twin shorts staffs that were strapped on either side of me, I twirled them experimentally before giving them a sharp flick. Instead of shaping to become knives like they usually did, each of them elongated to the length of a traditional hanbō staff with sharp, claw-like features at each end, like a mini scythe blade. Then zeroing in on my nearest target, I charged.

Honestly, I cannot really tell you what happened after that. I know that I did, in fact, attack the nearest Decepticons' ankle, cutting and pulling at wires at random. But the rest was just a blur. I remember snippets like Arcee, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee all yelling at me to take cover and the Decepticons trying to squish me flat but that's about it. It was kind of like I entered some kind of trance. I was aware of my actions and generally causing mass chaos, but it was like I was on autopilot. Eventually, the fight ended and I came out of my stupor, exhausted and tired albeit, but fortunately alive and in one piece. Of course that didn't stop three bots looming over me, or at least one bot in particular, and glaring down at my figure while the other two were just worried of I was alright or not.

I think Arcee started lecturing me about something like personal safety and self-preservation, but after hearing the word 'stupid' at least ten times in two minutes, I kinda just tuned her out. Eventually, she gave up, but I had a feeling that the real lecture was still to come.

With all of the Decepticons now laying in useless scrapheaps on the floor, dead, the bots and I approached the rock Fowler was perched on.

"Where's Optimus?" Arcee asked Fowler as we came up.

The government agent turned his gaze away from the train tracks in the distance, to face us for a moment. "He had a train to catch."

"And you apparently have leak in your agency," I said as I climbed back up next to him.

Fowler regarded me cautiously but didn't say anything as I continued.

"How else could they have known about when, where, or even how you were transporting the DNGS?" I said softly watching the train tracks though I didn't really see them. My mind was too preoccupied with other thoughts.

* * *

—Base—

"Jackson Darby, you did what?!" I yelled so loudly that I bet even Silas could hear my words from whatever hole he was hiding in.

The poor boy was practically quivering and shaking as I glowered at him. Jack had just finished telling me how he and Miko had boarded the train in an attempt to stop the MECH soldiers from getting the DNGS, and all the while my expression had gotten darker and darker.

"I-I said that Miko and I b-boarded the train to prevent the DNGS from being t-taken," he repeated timidly. If this had been an anime, he would have been sweating bullets.

I whirled on Ratchet. "And you let them do this?"

Visibly, the Autobot medic looked uncomfortable as he determinedly anywhere but at my thunderous expression. He mumbled something that I didn't quite catch.

" _Excuse me?_ " I practically growled.

"Yes, I did," he finally said ashamedly.

I turned back on Jack. "Next time, make sure to think things through and _not_ give Miko the axe. We've all learned how that turns out." And after imparting those words of wisdom, I stormed off into the elevator, allowing it to carry me up to the roof.

* * *

—Optimus' POV—

Optimus watched as his charge climbed the lift and allowed the doors to shut behind her, riding it to the top. She was definitely angry, he could see, just not at anyone in particular, though it may have seemed like it.

Glancing around, Optimus made sure to note that no one was really paying attention to him. Arcee and Jack were now talking quietly in a corner, Miko and Rafael were playing video games with their guardians cheering them on from behind, and Ratchet was working on the monitors, sighing every so often in annoyance at the racket everyone else was making.

Using everyone's lack of attention on him to his advantage, Optimus quietly slipped out of the room and made his way to the secondary lift to the roof.

The sun had just set when he made it up top. With the last rays of light just beginning to fade, the stars were now becoming visible to the optic with the gradual blackening of the sky. The sight was oddly beautiful. Optimus blinked, mentally shaking the thoughts away.

Looking around for his charge, he nearly mistook her for more rocks in the meager light. Aria sat perfectly still near the edge of the mesa, hugging her legs with her chin resting on her knees as she stared out at the dying light.

For a moment, he just stood there, watching the organic femme as the distant light gave one last hurrah before finally sinking below the horizon.

"If you're going to stand there and stare at me, at least have the decency to do it where I can see you," came Aria's quiet voice, any trace of her previous anger absent from her tone. In a somehow graceful motion, Aria looked over her shoulder at him and softly patted the spot next to her.

Obligingly, Optimus took her invitation and sat next to the girl, his pedes dangling over the edge. He did not say anything. He just sat there, following her gaze, and trying to find that hidden image in the distance that only she seemed to see.

The silence between them was not uncomfortable, more of a companionable silence that was only broken by the sounds of wind eroding away the landscape around them.

"I'm sorry about back there," she suddenly said. "I was stressed after what happened today and I took it out on Ratchet and Jack. I should probably go apologize to them later before it's too late."

Optimus shook his helm. "No, you were right. Both Ratchet and the kids could have exercised better judgement today. But, they did what they thought was best for the right reasons."

"And Jack and Miko nearly got killed in the process," Aria retorted bitterly.

" 'Nearly'," Optimus repeated. "But they survived this encounter and likely learned from this experience."

"This time," Aria muttered cynically under her breath though Optimus still heard her. Out of the corner of his optic, he noticed as her grip on her legs momentarily tightened. Then she sighed, loosening her hold a bit. "Sorry. You're right; I should be looking at the positive. I just can't help but wonder at times though: what _could've_ happened? Optimus, of the humans—not including Agent Fowler—on base, I am the oldest. I'm supposed the role model; the one who sets the example for the others. If they're pulling stunts like today, then it means that I'm not setting a very good example for them. You of all people, er—bots, should understand this, Optimus."

He did not respond to her immediately. Aria's logic, as always, was hard to argue with, so he didn't.

"I do, Aria. But from what I have learned from both my time here on Earth and on Cybertron, youths, particularly teenagers, sometimes learn best through their own experience."

Aria snorted in what sounded like an attempt to hide a small laugh. "And Ratchet?"

"I would rather not say."

The grey-opticed femme smirked, giving another huff of air.

"Sure."

* * *

—Later, Aria POV—

I had just gotten home after being dropped off by Optimus when I felt it. At first, it felt like someone had briefly stabbed a needle into my arm. I ignored the sensation and for a bit I was okay, going about my daily business as usual. Then I felt as something wet dribbled down my right arm and a coppery, metallic scent reached my nostrils. My eyes widened and I looked down to see the bandage on my arm now had a small wet splotch on it and was slowly turning dark-reddish color.

I paled considerably when I realized what was happening.

Ripping my already half-removed jacket off my other shoulder, I raced for the upstairs bathroom in my shop, trying uselessly to keep calm as I clutched the steadily wetting bandage on my bicep.

 _Dammit!_ I mentally cursed as I rushed into the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door. Immediately, I dove for the cabinet underneath the sink.

 _Hurry! Hurry!_ A voice seemed to urge in the back of my mind.

I rummaged through the cabinet, looking frantically for…. _found it!_

I pulled out two plastic boxes: a white first aid kit and a smaller red box, about the size of a pencil case. With one hand, I shakily opened the latter first. Inside was a small jar of some kind of paste, a syringe with a needle at the end and a bottle with some translucent yellowish liquid sloshing around in it. Fumbling a bit, I managed to fill the needle with some of the liquid. Then I looked to the now entirely blood soaked bandage on my arm. The fraying cloth was already loosening with the moisture. Pulling out some scissors from the first-aid kit, I carefully cut off the cloth bandage. Immediately, blood started pouring down my arm more quickly, now flowing more freely without the constrains of the dressing.

Dropping, the other stuff in my hands without much care as to where they landed, I seized the syringe with my red-stained hands and plunged the needle into my shoulder, right into the area where I knew there was a blood vessel. With an almost detached fascination, I watched as the liquid was pushed from the syringe, into my bloodstream. Eventually, the bleeding began to subside.

For a while, I just sat there on the floor, leaning against a wall, shaking and too weak to get up.

 _That was too close_ , I thought, thinking of Optimus' reaction if he saw me like this. _He'd probably try to ban me from ever going on missions ever again if he knew how weak I really was._

Finally, I managed to stand. My legs felt like toothpicks and my arms were like useless noodles of spaghetti. I peered at my reflection in the mirror.

I looked like an extra from _The Walking Dead_. My skin was a sickly white pallor, sweat glistening on my face. My lips had taken on a slight blueish hue as did my fingernails, especially on my right hand, and my eyes looked wild, even slightly crazed. I was breathing hard, my breath coming in short pants as my heart raced; I felt lightheaded. My entire right arm and left hand was coated in coppery-smelling blood.

Ignoring my sickly appearance, I turned on the faucet, leaning against the counter for support. Then, carefully, I began rinsing my bloodied appendage in the water, my blood turning the clear liquid red. Eventually, all the blood was cleared away and the old wound was visible.

Calling it a 'wound', however, was putting it lightly; it looked as if someone had successfully managed to carve a big, gaping hole through the middle of my bicep. You could literally see through to the other side. Inside the cavity of mutilated flesh, you could see a my blood vessels and veins pumping blood to my limbs, growing from one side of the hole near my shoulder to the other, towards my fingers, looking a bit like those diagrams of plant roots you see in elementary school textbooks. They were vibrating slightly in tandem with the beat of my heart. To one side, half submerged in flesh, was a glint of something white: bone. In the area around the mutilated fissure, the skin was so profusely scarred that it looked like some kindergarteners attempt at coloring. And finally, as if the injury wasn't gruesome enough, when I flexed my fingers slowly, you could see as the skin shifted, muscles visibly moving under a very thin layer of skin, almost like a membrane.

Even after so many years of bearing this injury, the sight of the marred skin and mutilated flesh still made me queasy.

Looking closely, I noticed how one of the veins seemed more irritated than usual; that must have been the one that sprung a leak, so to speak. That sometimes happened to me after a particularly stressful or exciting day.

After carefully toweling everything dry, (even the hole), I scooped up the red box and pulled out the jar of paste. The orange label on it read _Neosporin_. Unscrewing the top, I meticulously began to apply the gunk to the inside of my injury, applying liberal amounts of the antibiotic cream to the tender vein. Then, grabbing for the hefty first aid kit, I pulled out the last of the cloth bandage wrap.

I sighed. _I'll need to get some more later._

Then, I set to work wrapping the wound, attempting to hide my flaws from the world so that no one would really know how weak I was.

* * *

Ugh. Gruesome right? Even just reading that description makes me shudder. *Shudders*. Honestly, I'm almost envious of Aria. To have the strength to have such a gross injury…*shudders again*…she's pretty strong.

Anyway, for you nerds out there, Vitamin K—the injection Aria used to stop the bleeding—does actually help with injuries. As for Aria's particular…wound, I know that such an injury should be impossible—since I've never found any proof of anyone having similar injuries—please just pretend that it is. I tried to make it as realistic as possible.

I know that the description was gory but this part is important. This is part of what makes Aria herself; what shaped her. I shan't say more lest I give away more but all I will say it that this is important. You people will just have to wait for the next update to hear more.

Also, as for the Holocaust museum reference, I actually have been there before and seen those actual exhibits I named too, but mainly I thought I would reference those two because they affected me the most and trust me, I am rarely ever emotional over anything. If any of you haven't been there before and get the chance to do so, I recommend that you go because I learned so much while I was there.

Review. Please and thank you!


	11. In the Darkest Night

Jesus! Its been too long! I haven't updated in forever and now I'm really kicking myself over it. Anyways, I hope everyone is having a good summer so far and enjoyed their fourth of July since I certainly did. I even kidnapped my boyfriends phone accidentally at one point. XD And now I'm sure he has actually realized how insane I truly am. :P

Thank you to all who read my works and favorited, followed, and reviewed. It truly means a lot to me!

Anyways, no more gasbagging on my account and on with the show!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime, sadly, or any other recognizable details. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 11: In the Darkest Night**

Unlike most people, I like school. School is actually quite fun. Of course, that is, until you get to that miserable teacher that always seems to be integrated into your schedule.

The time was 9:55 AM; we were already halfway through third period, which was by far my least favorite period. Okay, correction, I don't hate AP Literature. In fact, I quite enjoy learning about it. The only thing that I genuinely loath about it is the old crone who teaches the subject.

So what is the name of this new form of evil you ask? Madam Griselda Thornton, or as I oh-so- _lovingly_ refer to her as, the devil's spawn and resident thorn in my side. I would rather have to babysit a hundred Miko's and Megatron's than put up with this senile old cow. But here I am, sitting in classroom 407-Hell, listening to her droning monotone voice, and imagining her dying in the most horrific ways possible.

"Miss Slade-Cage, if you look at the clock one more time, I will send you to the principal's office with a note requesting for your immediate expulsion for disrupting my class!" snapped a dry, papery voice that cut the air like the crack of a whip.

Immediately, I focused on the owner of the voice, trying my best to withhold a snarl as I locked gazes with the worst creature known to man.

Madam Thornton, as she insisted on being called, was a shriveled, withering old hag, who stood at exactly four-foot nothing, the fraying grey hair on the top of her head barely reaching the underside of my breasts whenever I stood in comparison to her.

Forcibly, I kept a straight face, betraying neither my anger nor my pure contempt for the shriveled old hag that stood next to my desk, glaring at me with her beady little brown eyes that looked red in the light.

"My apologies, Madam Thornton, I was merely trying to work the kinks out of my neck. It gets extremely painful to look down all the time, making it hard to concentrate," I said politely as possible. Inwardly though, I just wanted to gag as the words passed my lips.

From that moment that I first stepped into her classroom, I swear that the greying old woman has had it out for me. No matter what, she would always find fault in whatever I said and did, never once giving me credit for the things I got right. At first, I just thought that she might be trying to push me harder because she thought that I was capable of more, but now I realize that she just hates me for no apparent reason except that I simply exist.

"I do not appreciate your tone, Miss Slade-Cage," she replied, wizened features twisted in a scowl that made her no less horrible to look at. "Until such time as the bell rings, you are to keep your eyes focused on your own paper." She peered through her horn-rimmed spectacles, down at my paper. "And I see that you still have not completed questions 1-30 in the time that I have given you."

My hands gripped the sides of the desk so hard that my knuckles turned white and I feared that any second now, the wood beneath my fingers would splinter and break with the force of my grip. Forcibly, I did not react. I refused to show emotion. I wanted to scream, to cry, to yell at the senile old cow that it was impossible answer thirty questions with at least paragraph for each question and read the entire chapter she had just given us in that small span of time.

But I did nothing of the sort. Instead, I looked her dead in her piggy little eyes and calmly said, "My apologies, I will get right on that, Madam."

It was probably one of the hardest things I've had to do in my life, but somehow, I managed. Turning away from the looming evil right next to me, I focused my attention on the sheet of paper in front of me and began scribbling hurriedly, graphite lines thick and dark on the sheet in front of me from my anger.

 _Fucking senile old cow. She needs to retire. Save us all the misery of putting up with her_ , I thought contemptuously.

* * *

—Outside in front of school—

Finally, I managed to escape the clutches of the old hag unscathed. Well, mostly; my insides were still boiling like hot magma from earlier. Now I stood outside the educational building, affixing my book bag to my motorcycle, and pulling on my helmet with a little more force than necessary.

The engine rumbled to life underneath me, but for once it didn't soothe my anger like it usually did after a stressful class period with devil spawn. As the wind rushed past me, I tried to push my anger aside and channel it into something useful, like focusing on what I would do next once I got to my shop. The tactic worked for the most part, but I could still feel the underlying need to hit something.

 _I could really use a distraction about now_ , I thought wistfully. _Or a punching bag. Yeah a punching bag would be really nice. Maybe I should consider getting one for the shop._

My mental musings were cut short when I pulled up to the front of my garage and found someone apparently waiting for me out front.

He was a plain-looking brunette guy, neither extremely handsome nor really ugly. He had one of those faces that could easily be lost in the crowd with no significant distinguishing features that made him stand out. As I approached, my grey eyes scanned over his form warily, subconsciously noting that I was an inch or two taller than him. He had to be somewhere in his late twenties at the very least.

He looked up from his phone as I got closer, his eyes betraying his boredom as he as he waited for me.

"Can I help you sir?" I hedged cautiously.

The guy just sniffed disdainfully. "Look, all I was told was to hand this to a Miss Aria something or whatever," he said haughtily waving a 'Greetings from Nevada!' postcard around that depicted some mountain range in the background. "And since no one else has come to this dump, I'm assuming that's you." He shoved the card into my hand.

Feeling slightly bewildered, I looked at the only to see single thing written there: D5.

"Thanks, I—" I looked back up to see that the guy was gone, as if he had never been there in the first place. "O-kay…? Geez, that was cryptic," I muttered as I entered my shop's garage, still examining the odd inscription on the back of the picture. There was no name just a return address from some random New York PO box.

There's nothing worse for anyone who's spent time in intelligence work than being up against a ghost. You can deal with an enemy you know, but an enemy you don't know? It could be anyone.

 _D5, D5, D5…wait_. I looked over at the chess set displayed on one of my shelves. As if in a trance, I walked over and moved a little black pawn two tiles forward. For a moment, I just eyed the board, trying to figure out the significance of the move. It was odd that the sender of the anonymous postcard would start with black, symbolically making me virtuous white.

As soon as the thought came to mind, I snorted in derision. I was anything _but_ virtuous. That was more of Optimus's thing.

My mind swirled with endless possibilities but I couldn't think of anyone who would fit the bill.

Suddenly, my phone went off, snapping me out of my intense thoughts and causing me to jump slightly. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the little device and hit the green receiver button.

"Hello?" I answered.

-{ **Guess who!** }- sang the familiar voice of a little girl.

A soft smile slowly made its way onto my features. "Izzy. Hey baby girl. How are you?"

It looks like I just found my distraction.

* * *

—Later, Base, Optimus' POV—

 _Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!_

Optimus heard as he passed the training room later that day; he paused in his footsteps.

"Keep your staff up Jack!" called a familiar female voice.

 _Crack! Crack! Crack!_

"Good! Now, feet apart, Jack! Feet apart and knees bent!"

 _Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!_

"Very good. Now remember to stay light on your feet. I'm not gonna sit still for you and other people certainly aren't either."

 _Crack! Crack!_

"Remind me again…why I agreed…to this insanity?" panted the voice of Jack.

 _Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!_

"Because I you're getting rusty and I need someone to beat up."

Optimus almost smiled at the classic Aria-like behavior. She was always so blunt and straightforward.

Optimus peered through the windows at the top of the door to see Aria and Jack both wearing some kind of padded gear, with some kind of long staffs in each of their hands as they seemed to be facing off from each other. How had she gotten all that stuff into base without him noticing?

Jack seemed to be breathing pretty hard, but Aria hadn't even broken a sweat, her stormy grey optics meeting Jacks with a neutral look. She was now wearing a short black sports top that showed off her muscled but heavily scarred stomach and lower back as she circled Jack like one of those caged felines.

Suddenly, Jack lunged but Aria seemed ready for him. Moving with a grace that only a skilled fighter would possess, Aria met his strike with equal fervor before using her strength to push Jack back. Stumbling a bit, the raven-haired teen barely had time to raise his wooden staff in defense before Aria suddenly went on the offensive. Optimus watched as she started really pushing Jack, landing heavy and precise blows that caused the boy to take a step or two back with each strike. Blonde braid flying as she moved, Aria's grey optics seemed to glitter almost, and he could have imagined it, but a tiny smirk seemed to be playing at the edges of her rosy pink lip-plates. It took Optimus a second, but he realized that she was toying with Jack.

Lean muscles flexing, wood upon wood clacking, limbs a blur of motion, and the dark, loose-fitting material of her sweatpants swaying with the motion of her body; soon enough the blonde-haired girl delivered a fast and powerful enough strike that Jack couldn't parry in time causing him to miss a step and trip.

"I yield," Jack groaned when Aria pointed the end of her staff under his chin.

Slowly, she let him up, extending her hand to pull him to his feet.

"Take five," Aria said, walking away.

"Finally!" Jack cheered tiredly, going to the other side of the padded mat that they had been practicing on and snatching up a bottle of water.

"Don't get too far ahead of yourself just yet," she called over to him. "We still have boxing and martial arts to do. The latter of which you are still lacking serious skill in, may I remind you."

Jack groaned dejectedly. "What are you? My fitness coach?"

"Well if you're gonna pull stupid stunts like boarding a train to stop a couple of heavily armed nut-jobs with an obsession for leather, and only Miko as your back up, then I might as well be," she retorted with what looked like a tiny smirk.

"You _still_ haven't forgotten that?! And what about Miko? Why haven't you dragged her in here and used her as your personal punching bag a couple times?"

" _Because_ ," Aria stressed, her previous mirth now draining from her eyes, "resident wild-child decided to get herself stuck in detention for not doing her history report. If she wasn't so careless, then I would have carted her here too, kicking and screaming all the while and refusing to let her leave until she at least learned how to throw a half-decent punch."

Optimus could not help but feel a little intrigued at her reasoning. While her words may have been spoken in an almost growling, angry tone, it was obvious that she really cared that much about her fellow humans' safety if she was willing to go as far as training them.

Slinging a towel over his shoulder, Jack snorted a laugh. "That would have been a sight to see. And what about Raf?"

She shook her light-colored head. "Too young. I only plan on teaching him a minimal amount; just enough to defend himself mainly, but nothing strenuous."

Jack shook his head but said nothing, allowing silence to descend over them for a bit as the two quietly sipped their water. Finally, Aria ripped off her head gear and tossed it to the side.

"You know what? I think that's enough for one day. Go hang out with Arcee. I'm sure she misses your company terribly."

"Thanks," Jack breathed, mimicking her actions and pulling off the rest of his protective gear.

"There are showers three doors down on the left side of the hall, but don't take too long. That room doesn't have a very secure lock," she called over to him.

"Duly noted," Jack said, gathering up his stuff and heading for the door.

Not wanting to be caught spying on them, Optimus hurriedly slipped into a nearby room and shut the door, leaving it open just enough that he could peer through the tiny space between the door and its frame.

He watched from afar as Jack exited the training room, not even sparing a glance for Optimus' hiding place.

The Prime waited for a moment before peering out the door again. Jack had already disappeared and the sound of his charge shuffling around in the training room had also stopped.

"You know in society it's considered both rude to spy and eavesdrop on other people."

Outwardly, Optimus stiffened a bit in surprise, while inwardly, his spark beat frantically as he looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. Then he looked down. And there stood Aria, looking up at him with a slight downturn to her lips.

He had the sense to look slightly shameful. "My apologies, Aria. I did not mean to eavesdrop—"

Aria held up a hand, forestalling what he was going to say next.

All of the previous padded gear she had previously been wearing was gone now, replaced with her usual baton holsters strapped to her sides complete with the short silver staffs, a red plaid button-up shirt, long skin tight jeans, and thick black boots; her hair was still in its braid.

"Optimus, if you're going to spy on someone, use a mirror, okay?"

"I—What?" he said, quite befuddled.

"A mirror? You know a shiny, reflective piece of glass?" she said, optic ridges quirked. "It's a lot more subtle than a pair of glowing blue optics looking out at you from the window."

For once in his life, Optimus was absolutely confused and that was saying a lot considering he dealt with Special Agent Fowler on an almost regular basis. "I do not understand. You are not—"

"Mad?" she finished for him, an optic ridge still raised. Then, she smirked, shaking her head ever so slightly. "No. You're curious; you want answers. I completely understand. And I respect you for that. I can't really blame you for resorting to other methods to find information. Besides, I'm not the most open of books, if you haven't noticed already."

Optimus shook his helm amusedly. That was an understatement.

"Now come on big guy. I've already finished cleaning up the training room, and something tells that the day isn't over just yet. Give me a lift back to the main room?"

* * *

—Aria's POV—

While I had merely intended the words to be an offhand comment, I had no idea how true they were until we actually got to the main room.

"…like my parents," I managed to hear Miko say in an irritated tone.

"Well aren't they Japanese?" Bulkhead asked.

For a moment, I was confused and a little insulted. What did he mean by that? Does he think that just because you're born in a different country that you should be smarter or something? Or is he referring to the 'people from Japanese are smarter' stereotype? Then a figurative lightbulb seemed to flick on above my head, and I realized that he was probably referring to the language itself. Oops, silly me.

"They may speak a different language, but you say the same things," the irate girl said, walking away from him.

"Because we want the best for you," the green mech tried reasoning. "And that means making sure you go to school, not jail."

"She'll probably get deported back to Japan if she gets into too much trouble," I muttered under my breath, trying not to let a teensy note of hope leak into my voice.

"Uh-oh. What'd you do?" Jack teased from his elevated position on the raised platform.

Ignoring Jack, Bulkhead kneeled down a bit to look at her better. "Look, Miko," he said in a gentle tone. "Before I became a warrior, I was a laborer; Construction," he tried to convey.

 _Huh, I never knew that_ , I thought, intrigued. Until now, I hadn't really thought that the Autobots—that all Cybertronians, really—might have had lives before the war. When I had first met them, I guess that my subconscious had just naturally assumed that this war was their lives, both their past and present (and possibly their future for a while yet) since they never gave any indication otherwise before now. It had never occurred to me that they all had had lives and jobs before the war began and destroyed their planet; I felt stupid for not realizing it sooner.

Looking sideways at my appointed guardian, I wondered what he had done before the war. It seemed a little difficult to imagine him doing something in the entertainment business or construction. Of course, I also highly doubted that he had always been a leader now that I thought of it. Now, I wondered what all of them had been like before conflict broke out on Cybertron, what occupations they had worked. Did any of them have families?

 _Probably, stupid_ , said a snide voice inside my head.

 _Shut up_ , I told it.

Being so wrapped up in my own thoughts I nearly missed Miko's reply. Mind you, it wasn't a very intelligent answer, (as always).

"I love breaking stuff! I want to be just like you, Bulk," she said admiringly, immediately taking his words the wrong way.

Cue mental face palm and the random guy in the corner taking the 'Bang Head Here' sign literally.

To the green giant's right, one of Ratchet's monitors went off but no one else seemed to pay any attention except Optimus, Ratchet, and I.

Meanwhile, Bulkhead seemed a little flustered at the notion that someone looked up to him, but he valiantly attempted to continue his discussion with Miko. "Why would you want to be like me when you can be a…a medic like Ratchet?" he suggested.

I had to repress a derisive snort. Never in a million years would I ever trust Miko behind a scalpel, not even if she was the last doctor on Earth and I was dying or in extreme agony.

Anyways, said medic had been silent until then. "I'm detecting a fresh energon pulse from the nation called Greece," he said not turning around. "An ancient city; quite historic, I believe."

At the words, a thoughtful expression spread across Bulkhead's face. "Ancient Greece, huh?" he mused, a sly gleam entering his optics. "Oh, field trip."

If I was an evil villainess, I would have cackled madly. But instead I just snickered quietly as I caught onto the green giant's trail of thought. I just hoped that she didn't run into any nude statues there and get an eyeful since both Greece and Rome were both notorious for them back in ancient times.

An hour or two later, Miko and Bulkhead had disappeared through the ground bridge to Greece, probably arriving just as sun was coming up because of the ten hour time difference. Anyways, the base was now extremely quiet with the absence of the bases' number one noise making duo. Not that I was complaining.

Ratchet was at his monitors as per usual, Bumblebee and Raf were playing video games, and Arcee and Jack were now talking in a corner of the base since the blue femme had just gotten back from patrol. Meanwhile, I was quietly sitting on the couch, brows furrowed, drawing.

I had had another dream last night and despite the fact that it was one I had had before, the images stubbornly refused to leave my mind. As always. So now I resorted to my tried and true method of ridding myself of the dream: drawing them. I don't remember when I figured out that drawing helped but all I know now is that drawing out some of the scenes helped immensely. Now I had an entire shelf devoted to sketchpads full of these images in my shop.

Anyways, the dream I had had last night was one of my earliest visions that I think had had when all these dreams started, but I couldn't be sure since I couldn't remember.

—Flashback—

 _I was floating aimlessly in a vast oblivion. Nothing existed here. All was black around me. Where was I? I twisted and turned, trying to find a clue but there was nothing. Everything just felt empty._

 _Then I was standing on some kind of surface, no longer floating._

 _All of a sudden, I felt myself freeze. I don't know how I knew, but I was now acutely aware that I wasn't alone anymore. Looking behind me, I somehow saw a figure that hadn't been there a second ago. Sorry, I guess I should back up first and explain the whole seeing thing. So you know how in anime's a character finds themselves in a dark landscape, standing on a perfectly flat surface and things with color seemed to be illuminated and stand out in the darkness because of that contrast? Yeah, it's exactly like that._

 _Anyways despite the fact that whoever it was seemed pretty far away, I could tell that they were pretty tall with…_ grey _skin?_

 _I blinked in confusion._

 _Without a second thought, I was running towards them._

 _Only when I got to the feet of the being did I realize that my assumption of them being tall was way of kilter. They weren't tall, they were_ _ **huge**_ _. This being could have easily used the Chrysler Building as a baseball bat. When I looked up into the face of the being, I belatedly realized that it was a Cybertronian. Its metal armor was greyish color, wait, no it was white, no…My eyes widened when I realized that the metal on its frame was continually changing color, never staying the same color for more than a couple seconds at a time. Moving on, its frame seemed neither fully feminine nor masculine, as if stuck in a neutral zone between the two. When I looked straight at it, I realized that its armor was almost a cross between all the different types I had seen on Cybertronians and more. Finally, there was its optics: glowing white optics that held so much power yet also seemed to glow different colors. And all from that one instant, I knew that I was looking into the face of a god, maybe the God;_ it _was one of the first beings to exist._

 _Anyways, The Being seemed to be talking to someone._

" _ **No, they do not understand. They are a young species**_ _," it said in a reverberating voice._

 _Cautiously, I looked around but saw no one._

 _Then I watched as The Being seemed to change. It no longer exuded that radiant aura of peace and calm and pure goodness. Now it felt as if The Being's aura did a complete 180, turning into one of great loathing and hatred, intent on nothing but destruction._

" _ **You mean primitive. They are violent, useless, and insignificant compared to us. They do not deserve to live**_ _," The Being said, taking on a slightly rasping tone that was different from when it had spoken first._

 _Its aura changed again._

" _ **They will learn**_ _." The rasp was gone. In its place was the first, mellower sounding tone that spoke first._

 _Was it…insane?_

 _For a while, The Being continued conversing with itself; its auras, or personalities I guess, continually changing as it talked. Listening as it conversed with itself, I gleaned enough information to know that The Being hadn't always been like this, with two personalities. Apparently, it had gone on for so long, alone, wandering through the cosmos and looking for other intelligent life on par with its own, but it had found none and then had resorted to talking to itself and thus the two personalities had developed. One was hell bent on destruction of life and the other wanted to preserve it, believing that freedom was the right of all sentient beings._

 _Suddenly, something changed and I felt like I was starting to spontaneously combust. Then The Being seemed to go supernova and I was forced to advert my eyes._

 _The last thing I saw was two powerful beings: one of light and life, the other of destruction, death, and darkness._

—End Flashback—

"Aria?" said a familiar deep, baritone voice, drawing me out of my memories.

I nearly jumped out of my skin but managed to turn it last second into a violent twitch of my wrist. Heart hammering in my chest, I turned my grey eyes on the form of Optimus standing behind me and looking concernedly at my features.

"Yes, Optimus?" I asked, trying to sound as normal as possible.

The Prime did not look fooled however.

"Are you alright, Aria?" he asked.

I blinked. "Yeah. Why do ask?"

His optic ridges seemed to furrow slightly in suspicion as he replied, "You have been standing completely still for a while and when I called your name you did not response the first couple of times. Are you sure you are alright?"

I waved off his concern. "Yeah. Sorry, I was just lost in thought for a moment there. I didn't mean to worry you. Anyways, is there something you need?"

He still looked suspicious but didn't question the change of subject. "I was merely wondering if you would like to accompany me on patrol?"

Immediately, I was snapping my sketchbook closed and on my feet. "Absolutely."

I guess I must have agreed too quickly or something because the concerned look on his face did not leave, only increasing slightly in intensity.

But before he could say anything, Ratchet called over, "Patrol will have to wait. I'm bridging Bulkhead and Miko back now. Apparently they came across something of great importance."

The Prime and I shared a look. He looked a little downtrodden. And I admit that I felt the way he looked. I wouldn't have minded if I had gone for a ride with him—albeit mostly silent one—if only to escape the confines of the base. But neither of us said a thing. He just put on his stoic leader face and kindly offered me hand to climb onto, placing me on his shoulder. Did I ever mention that I felt like a parrot on a pirates shoulder whenever I did this?

Anyways, for some reason, I did not really like seeing that the dejected look on his face, so I came to a split second decision at the last minute. Leaning in close to Optimus' audial fin as the Ground Bridge spiraled up, I whispered, "Tell you what. If we have time later today, I promise to answer any of the personal questions you have for me. No subject changes, deflections, half-truths, and/or lies; just the entire complete and honest truth. Deal?"

Optimus' optics seemed to brighten a little as he considering the offer. Until now, I hadn't realized that my careful deflections and attempts to not talk about my past had really put him off. Well hopefully this sacrifice pays off because I was taking a huge risk here. Would he still want to be around me if he learned about some of the darker aspects of my life? Probably not, but at least I could come out of this and say that I at least tried opening up to someone.

Eventually, he nodded slightly. "Deal."

 _I just hope I know what I'm getting myself into_ , I thought apprehensively as Miko and Bulkhead tromped through the green vortex.

"It is indeed an energon harvester," Optimus confirmed before explaining the uses of such a device for the benefit of us clueless humans. "A powerful tool created by the Ancients to remove raw energon from any source."

"Greek gods knew Autobots?" Rafael asked in confusion.

If it had been anyone else, or just Miko, asking that question, I would have snorted loudly, rolled my eyes and smacked them on the back of the head in hopes of jumpstarting some apparently nonexistent intelligent part of their brain. But as it was, I withheld any of my usual hostile behavior and merely sighed softly, looking at the spiky-haired kid with a mixture between amusement and pity.

"No," Optimus said, studying the enlarged image on the monitor. "The ancients often used the art of a given era to conceal messages. This fresco was likely a signpost indicating a harvester's location hidden somewhere on this planet."

A sudden thought seemed to have occurred to Jack on the other hand. "Uh, Optimus," he hedged nervously as ever. Honestly, what is it with him and being nervous around authority figures? "If the harvester removes energon from anything, and you all have energon pumping inside you…"

He didn't to even need to complete the sentence to make my blood run cold.

"In Decepticon hands, the harvester would be a devastating weapon," Optimus agreed, finishing Jack's sentence. From just those few words, I could tell that even Optimus did not like those odds. Not that I blamed him; I would feel the same way.

Miko on the other hand looked excited. "See? You were a genius to total that painting," she told her guardian, smiling like the idiot she was.

"You idiot," I hissed aloud though I don't think anyone except Optimus heard me, and he just shot me a slightly disapproving look.

"Miko's not wrong," Arcee of all bots agreed. "How can the 'Cons find the harvester without the fresco?"

I seriously wanted to face-palm right then and there. "You're both idiots," I amended quietly, without moving my lips, and closing my eyes so I could not be seen rolling them.

Thankfully, Raf unknowingly became their saving angel when he piped up and said, "With high-speed Internet. If you do an image search for 'Greek God' and 'golden orb', this pops up." He was typing the entire time he spoke, on his brand new laptop before—courtesy of Agent Fowler after MECH ruined his last one—hitting the enter button which caused an image of an ivory statue of a breaded man gripping a trident in his right hand and holding out a golden orb in the other, to pop up. "It's in a museum here in Nevada."

Everyone looked to Optimus since I guess he had some experience with ancient artifacts or something.

"That the real deal?" Arcee questioned.

"Contact Agent Fowler," Optimus ordered.

Of course, things are never just as simple as that. Almost as soon as Ratchet tried to dial the government agent, the thing went straight to voicemail.

-{ _ **You've reached Special Agent William Fowler. I'm currently on an intensive training retreat and unavailable until Tuesday**_ **.** }- the prerecorded informed helpfully.

I snorted loudly, not even bothering to cover up the sound. _'Intensive training retreat' my ass_.

"I hate talking to machines," Ratchet grumbled, a statement of which I found rather ironic.

Underneath me, I felt as Optimus sighed slightly before turning to everyone else. "Without Agent Fowler's direct aid, we will have to confiscate the harvester on our own."

I felt rather impressed with my guardian as he said that. He made it seem both easy and legal.

Jack on the other hand seemed to have trouble processing this. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! ' _Confiscate'_? As in _steal_ museum property?" he said, eyes bugging as he gestured frantically.

Poor Jack. His morals were apparently conflicting with our need to get to our objective.

"That sounds…illegal," Raf agreed uneasily.

I noticed how Miko did not feel the need to speak up per usual. I guess she was already set on the idea, which in my opinion, was already another negative mark towards my view of her.

"Guys," I said, finally drawing attention to myself and causing everyone to look at me. "They're right. Law or no law, we need to get that Harvester before the Decepticons do. Otherwise we'll be at a severe disadvantage and the Con's will win, even with Starscream leading them."

Had I been looking in a certain exchange students direction, I would have seen her expression darken slightly as I spoke, but since I wasn't, I did not.

Optimus nodded gravely at my words before speaking again. "I do not wish to break human law," he agreed. "But once the Decepticons learn of the Harvester's location, they will not hesitate to obtain it by any means necessary." He let the implications of his words sink in. "We must act covertly."

Jack still seemed disturbed by the notion of stealing but apparently gave in once he realized that he could not persuade them otherwise. "Okay, n-no offense, Optimus," the raven-haired teen stuttered, "but 'covertly' and 'giant robots' don't really go together. Museums are public. A-and they have guards and security cameras," he reasoned, making some very good points along the way.

I felt as my brow furrowed as I started devising different plans and strategies on how to get in and steal the orb and get out just as quietly.

Cockily, Miko exclaimed, "No problem! We're small enough to sneak in. And we are not a government secret." She was getting up in Jack's face as she said that. It was as if she was trying to prove some kind of point.

Ignoring that detail, I rolled my grey eyes again. Did she really just think that it was going to be that easy? She was a fool if she thought stealing the harvester was going to be just as simple as walking in, grabbing it, and walking back out.

Then, my eyes narrowed in contemplation. But walking right in however…

"Miko, I'm not sure that's wise," Bulkhead said, sounding worried for his charges' lack of concern for her own safety. I guess he had also noticed that look in her eyes too; that kind of rash thinking got people killed. Hadn't she learned her lesson yet?

Optimus, however, seemed to be considering her words. "But it may be our best option, Bulkhead. The longer we debate, the more time we give the Decepticons."

Coming to a conclusion, I spoke up again ignoring the look Miko was giving me. "And lucky for us, I've got an idea." Everyone turned to me, some looking surprised, others skeptical, but they all looked ready to listen. In turn, I just looked to the bespectacled boy-genius. "Raf, can you possibly access the museums data, like security cameras, building plans and guard schedules and such?"

The kid with the orange vest was already typing as I spoke, but in the end, he only sighed dejectedly.

"No go. It's locked up tight, so I can't gain access," he said sadly.

I nodded, unsurprised. "That's okay, it means that we've still got time before it gets dark and the museum closes. That's probably when the Decepticons will strike," I surmised, looking to Optimus for confirmation.

He nodded slowly, curiosity evident in his gaze.

Jack looked at me intently as the rest. "Aria, what are you thinking?"

In response, I flashed one of my signature sly grins. "I'm thinking that we're gonna walk into the museum and steal the harvester."

* * *

—Later—

"Thank you so much Miss Pandareos," the museum's manager said respectfully as he walked me to the front. "I hope a beautiful lady like yourself found our humble museum to your liking and will consider showing your collection here."

I put on a big smile and giggled slightly, covering my face with my hand slightly. " _Efcharistó polý_. You are most kind," I said in an accented voice, pronouncing the 'a' in 'are' like a 'v' and rolling the 'r', as well as placing slight emphasis on the ends of certain words. (Thank you very much). "I certainly will. This place is too grand to simply ignore."

We stopped near the front desk and the manager plucked up a small business card and a pen from behind it, scrawling something on the back, before capping the pen again and handing the card to me. "Should you come to a conclusion, that's our number on the front. I also took the liberty of putting my personal number on the back in case you wish to _discuss_ certain arrangements in more depth with me over a drink or something." He gave me a look that would have had most sensible women reaching for their can of mace.

Ignoring the look, I just giggled again, not responding to what he was implying. "Thank you again. You have a wonderful evening. _Kalinikta_." And with that I strolled out the doors and did not look back at the man. (Goodnight).

As soon as I was far enough from the museum and its manager's sight, I immediately shed my girly persona, grumbling as I felt my facial muscles ache from smiling so much.

Pulling out a small notepad from my pocket, I felt at least happy that my time there hadn't been completely wasted. You see, it takes some practice, but counting your steps can be extremely useful if you need to reproduce a floor plan from memory. Once you've memorized a floor plan, you want to get it down on paper as quickly as you can. Combine that with the technical specs of the security devices in the room, and you'll know where the holes in the security are. Then it's just a matter of slipping through one of those holes.

I had spent the last hour in the museum in the company of its sleazy manager, posing as a young, wealthy Greek heiress, by the name of Nyx Pandareos, with an interest in possibly displaying her priceless Grecian artefact collection in the museum. Of course, the manager had been all too eager to give me a tour, and inadvertently allow me to mentally map out the museum's layout and get measurements for the statue. When I had asked about the security, the foolish man had been all too willing to spill his guts to a pretty face, if only to attempt to get into my pants as he flirted all the while.

I snorted in both disgust and amusement. If only his employer knew.

Once I was far enough away, I called base so I could be bridged back and tell them my findings.

* * *

—Nightfall, Outside Museum—

For a last minute idea, the plan was going along smoothly. With the help of my map and knowledge of the guards schedules, along with the various locations of the security devices, Ratchet managed to lock a ground bridge into the same room as the statue.

We listened as the Bots got into place around the building.

-{ **Autobots, confirm position.** }- said Optimus.

-{ **Westward Ho.** }- Arcee sounded off.

-:{ _ **Eastern side confirmed.**_ }:- chirped Bee.

-{ **South side covered.** }- Bulkhead said, though he sounded a bit dejected.

-{ **Maintain your guard.** }- he told them before obviously turning his attention to myself and the kids. -{ **Aria, Jack, Miko, Rafael, I will have a clear view of you. Once you secure the harvester, I will contact Ratchet to bridge you back to base.** }- he said, following the lines of the plan perfectly.

Said bot started up the bridge before turning to the four of us, who were all on perched on a lift we had managed to dig out of a storage bay here on base. "Now, since you'll bypass all points of normal entry, you won't need to worry about setting off the alarm. But take care to avoid any security guards," he warned.

"Awe, you do care about us Hatchet," I couldn't help but say right before we went through the portal. I was so going to get it when we got back.

As soon as the bridge closed all seemed silent aside from our breathing and the small hum of the lift's engine as it rolled forward before stopping. We were in the same high-ceilinged room with the statue and various other items like an eastern island head and a T-Rex skeleton like from the movie 'Night at the Museum' (the irony). Through the windows, we could see the darkened parking lot that was mostly empty besides Optimus, who flashed his headlights at us a couple times.

That was the signal. Jack fiddled with the controls and then we were rising up and before we knew it, the four of us were right next to the security camera.

Miko took a picture of the statue, holding it upside-down before placing the device with the captured image over the top of the camera.

"Opa!" Miko cheered quietly.

 _So far so good_ , I thought.

Carefully, Jack maneuvered us over to the statue. Suddenly, to the side, I noticed a new set of headlights.

 _Uh-oh_.

I watched as more light flooded in from behind my guardian and a loud road of an engine also sounded now from directly behind the Autobot leader. Suddenly Optimus transformed and caught some kind of missile. The force of it pushed him back until… _crack_. One of the glass windows cracked as the projectile seemed to barely tap it.

As I helped the others load the orb into the lift, I was forced to watch helplessly as the first car, a blood red Ashton Martin, transformed into a white-faced mech. A Decepticon. Horrified, I watched out of the corner of my eye as the Con brought out a cattle prod looking device and _electrocuted_ my guardian.

My heart seemed to stop for a moment as we all watched him stumble then fall, the red Con jumping on top of him and electrocuting him with the prod _again_.

"It's 'Cons," Raf gasped.

"They got Optimus," Jack said obviously.

Like with the incident with MECH, it was as if watching Optimus crumble helplessly steeled my resolve. "Never mind that. We need to get this and get out of here," I said focusing more of my attention onto the task at hand. _He'll be alright_ , I told myself.

I tried to ignore the fight raging on outside as we shoved and heaved the heavy object; thankfully the Bots had intercepted the Cons before they could do something drastic like smash through the museum entrance. Unfortunately for us, it happened anyway when Bulkhead tried to charge the equally bulky Con and was thrown back, into the slick red Con and into a column on the museum and right into the glass.

Immediately the alarm sounded and all hell broke loose.

Raf managed to push the golden orb into the lift's basket with an almighty _crash!_ Though, I'm not sure if they heard considering the loudness of the security alarm.

The bots continued to fight outside as we lowered the lift.

"Come on. Time to make our exit, boys," Miko said hopping out and running ahead through the tiled halls of the museum.

We were forced to follow behind her coming to a garage-like door that rose when Miko hit a button nearby.

I was about to yell at her to get back here and stick to the plan when I saw a light from the other side of the door and quietly tapped Jack's arm in a silent warning to stay back.

Security has caught Miko.

"Uh, What's up?" We heard her say.

Mentally, I was cursing out the Japanese exchange student in every language I knew.

"Better come with me, miss," said a man's voice before we heard the sound of them walking away and entering through another door.

"Dammit!" I couldn't help but curse quietly.

"Not good," Jack agreed in a hushed tone.

Suddenly, we heard the light sounds of Cybertronian footsteps that sounded like a certain Autobot femme. But I couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding as the three of us raced over; I trailed more behind the other two.

"Arcee!" Jack called only for us all to halt as long, sharp digits raised the door with ease and revealed a familiar no-faced Con.

"It's Soundwave," Raf gulped as I managed to pull the kid behind me, remembering our last encounter with the Decepticons' TIC at the Texas Satellite Array.

Unfortunately before we could do anything, the silent 'Con reached out a tentacle and snatched up the golden orb before we could blink, transformed into some kind of drone, and took off into the night sky.

Not knowing what else to do, we raced towards where the bots were fighting, arriving in time to see the Decepticons retreating.

"The 'Cons have the harvester!" Jack hollered.

"And security has Miko!" Raf finished as we ran up.

"What?" Bulkhead exclaimed, obviously not taking the news too well. "I'm going in after her."

I was about to tell him that was a fools-head idea when Optimus intervened first.

"Bulkhead, Miko may be detained, but she is safe from harm," he said, placing his arm in front of the green bot to stop him.

"For now at least," I muttered, "Until she opens her big mouth."

Internally, I was still beating up myself about the fact that I hadn't been a better leader and taken better control of the situation instead of gawking at what was going on outside.

But I didn't say a thing as we all entered through the ground bridge. I was even so caught up in my dejected thoughts and self-loathing, that I didn't even feel the concerned stare of a certain blue and red bot on me.

* * *

—Later, Autobot Base—

Optimus had just finished telling Ratchet what had occurred. I was mostly tuning in and out of the conversation around me as I sorted through my thoughts quietly. It just seemed to me that as of late I had had so many things and problems plied up on my plate that I felt like I was Atlas being crushed under the weight of the sky, especially since I rarely found the time to organize my thoughts anymore what with school, my online classes, managing my shop, hanging out at base with the others and Optimus, and what felt like a million other things.

"In all likelihood, Starscream will use the harvester to gather as much energon as quickly as he can from the planet's otherwise unmineable energon deposits. Approach with extreme caution. Starscream will not hesitate to turn the harvester on any one of us," the Bot was saying as he bridged all but Bulkhead and Ratchet around the globe to scout for energon deposits. "Bulkhead, it is best that you remain here."

"So I can bust Miko out of the museum?" the bulky bot enquired hopefully.

"So you can help Ratchet. You may be Miko's guardian, but she requires human assistance. Agent Fowler remains her best option," he corrected and simultaneously delivering an unintentional blow to the bot as he left through the green portal.

Off to another side of the room, Raf was still trying Fowler's number.

-{ _ **You've reached special agent William Fowler. I'm currently on an intensive training retreat and unavailable until Tuesday.**_ }-

"Still no answer," Raf told him sadly.

The green giant's expression darkened, fists clenching. "Fowler's lounging around some poolside cabana." In a fit of rage, the bot smashed one of Ratchet's tools.

Of course, after hanging out with the bots for several weeks now, what came next was easily predictable. "Bulkhead! I needed that!" Ratchet roared.

"We can free Miko if we can just return that harvester to the museum," Bulkhead said.

I froze as he said that getting a completely crazy idea.

Ratchet however still seemed miffed over the destruction of one of his tools. "So the Decepticons can steal it all over again?" he scoffed.

There was silence for a bit before the green bot gripped his head saying, "I am so dumb!"

"So, how are we going to help Miko?" Jack wondered aloud.

"By returning this replica to the museum," Ratchet finished holding up a half finished golden orb. Huh I guess that while I had been staring off into space, Ratchet had been taking action; he really did care. "The construction of which would be going a whole lot faster if Bulkhead hadn't just mangled my frame welder!" he snarled his obscene gestures making his evident agitation almost humorous.

"We're already trespassers and thieves. Why not add forgery to the list?" Jack acquiesced.

Since when had he dropped his set of moral standards?

Anyways, I didn't want to break it to them but we would still need the suit to get Miko out of there unless I wanted tell everyone who I really was which I knew that I couldn't do. With that thought in mind, I quietly snuck out of the room. They could manage without me for a bit I think.

The last things I heard were Bulkhead talking about how he wished he hadn't taken Miko with him and something about the harvester not being the only thing that they found.

* * *

—Later—

I was waiting in the main room when the proximity sensors went off, announcing the arrival of one Agent Fowler as the elevator sprung to life, heralding his entrance.

"Where is she?" he growled.

There was no doubt in my mind who he was referring to.

Before anyone could be forced to reply, I walked up.

"About damn time Suit," I said.

The dark skinned man turned to me, nostrils flaring in anger. "You! What in Uncle Sam's beard is the big idea screaming into my voicemail and filling it up with you yelling at me to get over here?!"

I didn't even tremble when he jabbed a finger at me advancing on me and trying to intimidating me with his height, though that was impossible since I was about an inch or two taller than him.

"Well excuse me for trying to get your attention," I snapped back in an icy tone that would make even seasoned vets cower in fear.

"What. Do. You. Want?" he said through clenched teeth.

I barely concealed my victorious look as I proceeded to tell him what had happened, the others helping by chiming in other bits of information.

* * *

In the end, everything turned out pretty good. Fowler bailed Miko out, the harvester was destroyed, and basically everyone survived the night.

Then came time for myself and the kids to go home. Thank God it was Saturday since we had technically stayed the entire night at base. I thought that Optimus had forgotten my promise to tell him anything that he wanted but when I asked him as he dropped me off he told me that he hadn't forgotten. He had apparently thought that now wasn't exactly the time since he assumed I was tired, which I was though I would never admit it. He assured me that he would save his questions for next time or when we both had a spare moment. I agreed and I couldn't help but feel a little relieved at the close shave. He could have asked me anything…and there was _a lot_ I did not want to talk about.

* * *

—Same day, Nightfall, Location Unknown—

Whenever I feel particularly violent or there is too much on my mind or maybe I'm just really stressed, there is only one place I go: the fights. Streets fights to be exact. In there, people are set against one or more opponents and have to duke it out in the ring. Any and all are welcome (except children of course); it doesn't matter where you're from or what fighting style(s) you use. In fact, people often pay a lot to watch people participate in this blood sport, placing bets and whatnot. And not to mention that there are no actual rules to this illegal sport except two major ones: no guns and no killing. Just about every city in the US has them. You just need to know where to look.

I have been doing this for a little over seven years and may as well be considered one of the veterans, a 'Virgil-to-your-Dante' if you will. Never once have I been caught and detained by the police like so many other fighters have.

Anyways, walking into the abandoned warehouse that was being used to hold the matches, I watched as almost everyone fell silent upon my entrance, looking at me with varying expressions. Chief among them were slight apprehension and disbelief; almost everyone who was anyone, who fought in the street fights, knew who I was.

Then the whispering began.

I knew more or less what they were saying. The few veterans here were wary of me given my reputation; they were wondering if they should back out now while they still could. As for the others, who had heard of me but hadn't seen me in action, they were surprised that I actually existed and were wondering if they rumors about my brawling were true; they were at least slightly apprehensive or wary of me. And as for the handful of newbies trying to make it big here, they were either absolutely clueless or continued to hold themselves with an air of cocky arrogance, quietly scoffing at everyone else's apprehension of me. They would soon learn.

I guess I should explain for myself; I am a big deal among street fighters, practically a legend or ghost story to them that was used to scare arrogant newbies into submission. In fact, it was in these illegal blood fighting rings where I learned to fight and defend myself, gradually rising through the ranks and making a name for myself. Now with several years under my belt, knowledgeable people knew to back off or at least be wary when I entered; I was top dog here.

No one actually knew my name here though; to them I was mostly the street legend, regarded with fear and apprehension, a nameless fear. But neither did they attempt to report me in to the authorities as it was both a sort of unspoken rule around here and most people who attended had a criminal record to begin with, so they didn't need to add anything else to their resume.

Wordlessly making my way over, I seized the last number ball from the bowl, making it clear to whoever was playing commentator and/or referee that I was in to fight. No one stopped me. To the side, a couple people who had been looking like they were ready to fight now backed off, not liking their chances anymore now that I was here.

I didn't have to wait long for the matches to begin though, as the referee called everyone to attention, demanding silence. Of course, that wasn't hard after my entrance; everyone seemed to be too afraid to speak any louder than a whisper around me.

"Alright everyone! We now have our sixteen contestants. Tonight we are going to have a series of one-on-one matches. You will have seven minutes. No more, no less. Should you win the first fight, you will advance onto the second round and so on. Should there be no victor by the time is up, the crowd shall decide the victor! This is a hand to hand contest so no weapons aloud! The first to tap out or get KO-ed is OUT!" he declared in a rather annoying nasally voice through the mic. "And the only rules are…"

"No guns or killing!" everyone finished.

"Let the matches…BEGIN!"

And with that he called up the first set of numbers and the fighters got in the middle of the ring, ready to spar.

I kept my distance, watching from afar as the two duked it out, analyzing their strengths and weaknesses. Neither was very good; both obviously rookies if their sloppy fighting styles were anything to go by. Finally though, one guy won, but I doubted he would make it very far into the rankings with how hard he was sweating and panting.

The second match began shortly thereafter; the veteran of the two won in the end. The same happened for the third and fourth. In the fifth though, one of the newbies actually beat one of the vets, much to the crowds' excitement. The sixth, though, was held between two old hands this time, and it turned out to be a very close match. Finally though, the younger of the duo won, being more spry yet smartly conserving his energy.

Then the seventh round came around, and my number was called. Everyone fell silent as I strode over toward the middle of the ring. My opponent was a brunette guy only an inch or two taller than me. He wore a cocky, flirtatious smirk as he watched me shed my leather jacket and baton holsters and got ready to face him.

"Hey babe, I'll be sure to go easy on you okay?" he said with a lust-filled look as I stepped into the ring. There was no doubt in my mind now, that he was one of those cocky novices that showed up here, expecting an easy fight. He would soon learn a very hard lesson though.

"Allllrrriiiiiiighhtttt!" the commentator called. "In one corner, we have the bruiser known as the dreaded Red Manticore." The crowd cheered. "And in the other, we have the queen of the fights herself, The Dark Phoenix!" The crowd exploded this time as my name was called, chanting 'Phoe-nix', 'Phoe-nix!'

"Fighters…On your mark, Get set, and….FIGHT!"

Now if you want to survive street fights, there are a couple things you want to know:

One: if you are a girl and got something to show off, then flaunt it. A majority of your opponents will be guys and giving them a little eye-candy often works as an excellent distraction…before you send them crying home to momma. That's why I wore my hair down, along with tight-fitting pants and one of those half tops that greatly resemble a sports bra; it was tempting and looked like an amateurs move, but in reality it was a pro's play if you knew how to use it to your advantage.

The guy immediately launched himself at me, probably thinking that because I was a girl, I would be an easy take down. But that was his first mistake: underestimating me.

Gracefully, I danced out of the way, smiling flirtatiously at him as I wiggled my fingers at him, not even in a fighting stance.

Two: if you spent enough time fighting in the ring, it is guaranteed that you are going to make enemies. Some are more dangerous than others. You just need to learn how to pick your fights carefully. Pissing off the wrong guy and his gang could be fatal. But taunt a neophyte rookie and you just piss him off, making him sloppy.

For a while, I just teased and taunted him, making him charge and dancing out of the way, even occasionally tripping him. I could hear people in the crowd shouting "Finish him!" as I toyed with my opponent. After a while though, my little game got boring and I decided to grant the crowd's wish. This time, when he came rushing at me, instead of dancing out of the way, I caught his fist and used his momentum to send him flying. But I didn't stop there. Almost faster than anyone could blink, I picked him up and began tossing him about the cage with ease, slamming his face into the walls of the cage and floor every chance I got. Finally, I brought down the final hammer blow to his ego. Slamming his now bloody face one last time into the cold cement floor, I twisted his limbs back painfully, holding them steady as he bucked and squirmed, crying out in pain. Eventually though, he realized it was futile and gave up. Tears were now streaking down his bloody face as he tapped out.

Leaning down, I whispered into his ear, "Next time be careful who you underestimate, _babe_."

Then the poor guy passed out, going completely limp.

The crowd roared in approval as I released him, gathered up my belongings, and made my way back to my seat.

I didn't really pay much attention as the eighth match came and went, signaling the end of the first round and the start of the second. The beginning match ended almost as quickly as it started because it was the noob from the first against a more skilled vet.

In the second match, I was called to face one of the vets who all but pissed his pants at the thought of fighting me. I gave him a merciful thrashing though, knocking him around once or twice before grabbing him by the hair and KO-ing him in one punch.

See? I can be nice.

The rest of the time passed without question. People won and lost; I got up to fight in the third round and made it through. In the end though, there came time for the final match.

Steeping into the ring for the last time tonight, I looked critically at the poor sap who was pitted against me. He was some bloke called the 'Crimson Scourge'. But as I looked at him, I noted how he looked ready to hit the floor, sweating profusely despite his lack of a shirt, but he valiantly climbed into the ring and faced me.

Before either of us knew it, someone called "FIGHT!" and we were charging at each other the next second. Despite my previous victories and my opponent's exhaustion, I knew better then to get cocky this far in; there was a reason that we both made it this far in the first place. Apparently, so did my opponent apparently as we both threw punches and dodged blows, trying to get a feel for the others' fighting style, looking for an opening in our defense.

The third thing you need to know about the fights is to be prepared for pain. Street fighting is rough, merciless, and dangerous. It is referred to as a blood sport for a reason. You will not make it out unscathed; that I promise you.

Suddenly, just when I thought that I had spotted an opening in his defense, the guy lunged for my face before doing a fake out and kicking my feet out from under me. Thankfully I managed to catch my fall at the last minute before I could hit my head. It would have been pretty bad if I had gotten a concussion. The next thing I knew though, my left side was in pain and I was having trouble breathing. It took me a moment, but then I realized that the fucking asshole had broken my ribs.

 _That does it_.

Ultimately, what matters most is what you decide to do with all the negatives you have in a fight; what you do with all the shit other people say, all the pain that is inflicted, the agony that is caused by an ordinary day…everything. You have to learn to channel and focus it, marshalling that weakness into a strength. If you can do that, all the hardships, the aches, the pains…all that blood, sweat and tears that you shed, will seem insignificant when you fight, channeling all that raw emotion into your actions and using it like armor to protect yourself. All that will matter then is if you have the strength and conviction to get up off your ass and throw the next punch.

The next thing my opponent knew, he was fending off lightning quick strikes from almost all directions. Then I grabbed him by his jaw and threw him to the floor. The guy got up quickly enough though. Unfortunately for him, he should have just stayed down.

Focused and determined like a well-honed blade, I tossed the guy around a couple times, allowing him time to get up and defend himself before knocking him around some more. I don't know how long it went on for, I only know that it stopped when suddenly I heard the announcer speak. "And we have our winner! She has done it again folks! Still the reigning Queen of the fights, give it up for the DARK PHOENIX!"

* * *

Geez, that was... _intense_.

Anyways, please review, follow, and favorite myself and this story to your hearts content. I'll try to get my next update out soon. Love ya all to pieces!


	12. Question and Answer Session of Terror

Ello folks! How ya doin? I just wanted to make a couple quick shout-outs to the awesome people who reviewed, favorited and followed my work. I hope that you will all continue to enjoy my works as much as I enjoy writing them for you.

Also, I know that this chapter, which covers the episode 'Speed Metal', is supposed to take place withing a span of two days (three if you count the little Sierra tidbit), but I'm kicking this off on the end of the first day then realling going into it on the second. Technically though, there will only be a handful of lines that will be used from the actual episode. Fair warning though for those of you who get bored easily, there will be a lot of talking in this chapter.

Oh and before I forget, I plan to set up a poll for what Aria's parents' names are going to be. I just have to figure out how to do it without deleting my entire profile accidentally…

Anyways, lights! Cameras! Annnnd….Action!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime or any other recognizable works that you may find in here. Please relax, read, and review.

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Question and Answer Session of Terror**

 _Thunk!_

A small red dart embedded itself into the middle of the target, quivering slightly.

 _Thunk! Thunk!_

Two more joined the first, little scarlet fletching's brushing against each other.

Several feet away, I sat at my desk, gripping the remaining darts in one hand and sighing softly.

It was late now and the only source of light in my shop was the small black lamp that occupied a corner of my desk as well as a digital clock that read 9:08 PM; a couple weak rays of silvery moonlight streamed in from one of the windows upstairs.

For several hours now, I had been sitting at my crowded wooden desk in a corner of my shop, silently brooding. It was only until recently, that I had begun to throw darts. I was well aware of how late it was, but I couldn't stop thinking.

I shifted a bit in my seat, wincing only slightly when my still-healing ribs protested.

It had been a while now, but after our first encounter with the organization known as MECH, I had poured my heart and soul into digging up every piece of information I could find on them.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much to be found. Whoever Silas and his cronies were, they knew how to cover their tracks pretty well. Most of the information I had uncovered was stuff I already knew.

To sum it all up, MECH was pretty much an organization that worked in opposition to the United States government. No one had a clue what the name MECH actually stood for, but apparently, they sought to create a "newer world order" through the application of cutting edge-technology. And as shown from our encounter with them, procuring such technology included stealing it, and going to any lengths necessary to get it. The man from before, who called himself Silas, was confirmed to apparently be the face of their little revolution, though some of my sources told me that his name was suspected to be only a codename. As for his lackeys, they all appeared to have some ounce of US military training, attributing to the fact that some were probably even still enlisted. Anyways, whoever they were, they had some pretty good connections. They had been spotted in multiple places around the globe, toting some seriously fancy—and expensive—equipment, as well as having some well-informed sources inside the government itself. Pretty much an all-around dangerous group.

But that was pretty much all I could find aside from baseless rumors and unfounded accusations, neither of which were very reliable.

I was still waiting on a couple more calls to come in from some of my other contacts, but I was starting to doubt that they'd dig up anything new. Still, I tried to remain hopeful that someone would uncover something useful to give me an edge over MECH. I had even stolen the device that had electrocuted all those soldiers on the train from the DNGS incident (don't ask), but it was extremely complicated, not to mention the thing was half fried from its first usage so not mush could be salvaged from it.

Sighing again, I put away the remaining darts and tried to relax my tense frame a bit. Sitting up a bit straighter this time, I swiveled my chair around, facing away from the dartboard, looking at a one of those large whiteboards that you can flip and write on both sides. Though you couldn't see it very clearly in the dim light, I knew it had a lot of other important information on it. Maps, newspaper articles, handwritten notes; I knew what was on there. In fact, I had poured over it so many times that I could perfectly reconstruct a mental image of it, both front and back, and list every iota of information, from top to bottom, by heart. It seemed kind of silly now to still keep all of that information since I had memorized it all, but I guess having it there as a reminder of sorts gave me some semblance of peace I suppose.

Now I know you guys are all wondering: what's this got to do with MECH? Well, actually it doesn't have anything to do with it. As a matter of fact, the trail had gone cold, hitting a dead end years ago. But I always kept some reminder of it with me. I had always remained hopeful to find a fresh scent sometime in the near future. On more than one occasion, I found my thoughts drifting towards the subject matter from time to time, but just in passing. However, I was determined to close that case once and for all as it was only a matter of time.

A small hiss of breath escaped me; my arm throbbed horribly—the one with the hole in it that is—signaling another unintentional but imminent bloodbath should I continue to stress like this.

Shaking my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts, I rubbed my face tiredly.

 _Too many questions and not enough answers_ , I thought wearily. I hadn't even figured out that chess clue from the post card yet and the sender hadn't sent me anything else either.

Exhaling, I got up slowly, careful not to upset my tender ribs and pulled the rest of the darts from the dartboard before putting them away with the rest. Then, flicking off the lamp, I carefully made my way upstairs, heading for my room.

 _Later_ , I assured myself, _I_ will _figure this crud out later_.

And with those thoughts in mind, I collapsed face first onto my bed and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

* * *

 _I found myself rumbling down some road in the middle of the night, sitting inside what looked like a sleek sports car of some kind. I was seated in the passenger's side, listening as someone on the radio talked about the police trying to crack down on the illegal street racing in some city and reminding people how dangerous this activity is._

Pfft…Like I haven't heard that before _._

 _All around me, the roaring engine seemed to purr with delight, shaking the black leather seats slightly and myself along with them._

 _Looking around, I noticed in the dim lighting from the full moon overhead and the faintly glowing radio that I was the only one present inside the vehicle. Yet, the steering wheel moved of its own accord as the car rounded certain turns and bends in the road. Peering out the window, at the dark forest scenery that flew past, my eyes caught the glimmer of a glossy, blood-red paintjob._

 _Soon enough, the slick vehicle rolled to a stop alongside a line of a couple other sports cars, all of them with their engines revving menacingly. I knew what this was instantaneously, but I didn't feel even slightly intimidated since street racing wasn't actually all that unusual for me. I had actually participated in illegal street races from time to time too, but just not as much as I did street fighting._

 _However, what was unusual was that I felt like I was both the car and the passenger. It was like I was the observer but at the same time I could feel the car's emotions._

 _These foreign emotions as they were, assaulted my mind of their own accord: pride, vanity, excitement, and immeasurable self-assurance that I had this in the bag. These feelings didn't sit too well with me, however, especially the extreme narcissism, so I did my best to ignore them, treating them as if they were nothing more than obnoxious flies._

 _As I, no–_ we _, came to a complete stop, another one of the contenders eyed us from the drivers-side window of his muscle car. He was big and burly, with dark brunette hair that touched his shoulders and wispy goatee going on. The man wore a form-fitting, size triple XL rosy-pink t-shirt that covered up part of his tribal-like tattoos that spiraled all over his arms; prison ink most likely. Whatever the case, he looked like your stereotypical street-beat thug._

 _The darkly tinted window on my side was rolled down a smidge so I could hear the guy's words better. He seemed to be asking about the model of the car I was riding in._

Could he see me?

 _I seriously doubted it as his dark, malicious eyes seemed to go right through me, even though I was pretty sure that I was visible despite the dark windows and feeble light._

 _Forced to watch as something dark flashed in his eyes, the man smirked, holding up his glovelette covered hand that had a big ugly ring on one of his sausage-like fingers, before reaching out and dragging said ugly ring across the once-flawless paintjob._

 _Rage, both foreign and my own, flooded my system. Fists clenching and unclenching with the urge to strangle something—or someone—, my cheeks felt heated and my teeth clenched. Underneath me, I felt as the engine seemed to take on a more angry, menacing tone._

 _Oh that ass was so going to get it._

 _I didn't care where I was or whose car I was in but no one does that to a car in front of me and gets away with it._

 _Still occupied with giving the douchebag my deluxe 'You are going to die slowly, painfully and in every way possible' glare as he rolled up his window, I didn't notice as one of the mirrors tilted on its own to catch the guy's reflection. I did however notice when the gearstick shifted gears of its own accord like the steering wheel and the window._

" _Big mistake," growled a voice that seemed to mainly be coming from the radio._

Who said that?

 _Outside, a guy wearing long sleeve clothes and a baseball cap held up a flashlight above his head and turned it on._

Screeech!

 _Tires squealed loudly as they scraped across the road, engines kicking into overdrive as we rocketed forward._

 _I watched at the other cars took the lead, leaving us dead last. But I wasn't concerned; I knew that this was just the tip of the iceberg._

 _In front of us, the white and green cars battled for dominance while the douche and his black car took the lead far ahead of us._

Not today _, I thought._

 _Engine roaring, we zoomed past the other two at high-velocity, overtaking them with ease and headed straight for the asshole's ebony-colored ride. Before I even had time to process what was going on, we rammed into the jerk from behind, slamming him forward a couple feet._

 _Well I guess since the paint was already ruined, a couple more scratches wouldn't matter either._

 _Technically, ramming into other competitors on purpose was against the rules of street racing but it always happened every once in a while when one of the racers gave into his road rage. In the end, the result was usually just some form of damage to the car and occasionally the driver, but that was mostly psychological._

 _Apparently though, the car had a couple other things in mind rather than just a few scratches._

 _Skidding around a bend in the road perfectly, we slammed into the rear fender of the black car this time, tires screeching, before the car when over the guardrail and out of sight._

 _All I could do was look out the windshield in horror as the foreign feelings of malicious content filled me this time._

 _Slowing down though, we pulled over to the area the other car had gone over the rails. With the help of the headlights, I could see the wreckage of the car below, metal dented, windows cracked._

Gosh, I hope that guy is alright _. I may have seriously disliked the man who had dared to ruin a cars finish right in front of me, but I would never do something like that to someone else._

 _Like before, a smooth-sounding male's voice spoke from the radio. "You scratch my paint, I scratch yours."_

 _It was then as the car backed up, that I caught sight of something engraved into the middle of the steering wheel._

 _A Decepticon._

* * *

—Next Day, Jasper High School—

"Well done Miss Slade-Cage," congratulated the principal, Dr. Waltman, shaking my hand. "Keep up the good work."

I plastered a small, bashful smile onto my face. "Thank you sir. I will. Have a good day."

The elderly man smiled. "You as well, my dear. Don't work too hard."

"I won't!" I replied as I exited his office.

To those of you who are completely clueless as to what is going on, today is one of those days where I check up with the principal and my teachers to make sure that I am good for another month to continue on with my unorthodox high school schedule. You see, at least every month, we would hold a meeting to make sure that I was doing well in all my classes, which of course I was. And aside from one teacher in particular, my other instructors were sympathetic towards my position, making this ordeal a lot easier than it seems. I was even on good speaking terms with our kind principal, who I swear had a different tie for every day of the school year.

Anyways, I was just leaving the educational building when the final bell rang. In the parking lot in front of the school, I saw a familiar blue and pink motorcycle parked right next to my own red and blue bike. A block away to the south-side of the building Bulkhead and Bumblebee were also parked, waiting for their charges.

I waved at them, and they blinked their headlights in response.

A little smirk danced on my lips for a moment.

Continuing on my way, I drew out a small earpiece from my pocket and fit it into my right ear as I neared the femme bot. At least then I wouldn't look like a complete lunatic as I talked to her.

"Hey 'Cee. What's up?"

"Curbside duty, what else?" she said in her usual gruff tone, and I could just hear a faint note of sarcasm in it as well. "Anyways, what are you still doing here? Jack says you get out early so you can go work in that mechanics shop of yours."

I raised a brow at her. "I'm surprised you would remember something like that. Well to answer your question, I was just having my monthly check-up with my instructors to make sure that I can continue to get out early like I usually do. It's nothing to worry about though since I—"

"Hey Aria," a new—but unfortunately familiar—voice interrupted.

"I'll talk to you later Arcee," I whispered to her, clicking the button on the side of the earpiece for show.

Closing my eyes, I let out a soft sigh of irritation as I restrained the urge to whip around and sock the guy behind me in the face. Instead, my body slowly turned around, like I normally would, to face the cocky red-head behind me. "What do you want Vince? I was having a conversation," I said in an icy tone as I pointed at the earpiece.

Ever since I had met Vince, he had been determined to have me go out with him. I, of course, refused, but he just did not seem to get the message no matter how many times I said it. Vince just kept making passes at me, saying that I would come around eventually. However, the only thing that I think I will come around to with him is to give him a black eye and then some.

His cocky look did not waver in the slightest at the waring in my voice. He came up next to me and slung his arm around my shoulders causing my entire frame to tense, though the fool did not seem to realize it. "I was just wondering if you would like to go out on a date with me babe. You know, just a little you and me time."

At the moment, I felt nothing but absolute disgust and contempt for him with what he was implying, but I did not show it. Instead, I leaned in close like I was about to kiss him and said in a dangerously soft whisper, "Is that so?"

The foolish freckled red-head looked like he had just won the lottery. But before he could even so much as blink, I ripped his arm off my shoulder and kicked his feet his feet out from under him. Oh if only I had my batons with me. This guy would be nothing more than a black and blue pulp at my feet. Fortunately for him, I did not, so I had to resort to the old fashioned methods of intimidation.

Pulling him up but the collar of his shirt, I said in a low, growling tone, "Think again. Do not mistake me for one of those hormonal floozies you hang around with all the time. I am not a whore like you seem to believe I am, and I refuse to be another notch on your bedpost. All boys like you want is somewhere to stick your dick for a bit and that's it.

"Look at yourself. You think that just because your daddy's rich and he can buy you anything you want that it makes you a big man. That just because you can talk big and can lather your words in honey and sugar that any girl you meet will instantly roll over and be a good little slut for you, then you are sorely mistaken, little man. Here's a news flash for you sweetheart, money can't buy you everything. I've met men who are dirt poor and live on the streets, and they are worth ten of you. You are nothing more than an insignificant amoeba, little boy. The sooner you get that through your thick skull, the better off you'll be."

By now, the guy had gone pale, sweating slightly as he tried to free himself from my iron-clad grip. I don't know whether it was out of fear or anger but he looked like he wanted to do something; either piss his pants or sock me in the face, I don't know. Either way, that was good news for me as I was almost done with him anyway.

Leaning in close to his ear, I whispered, "If you still don't understand what I'm trying to say sweetheart, then let me spell it out for you: you ever come near me with a disgusting offer like that again, I won't kick your ass. No, I'm going to send a nice little movie to daddy about all your little "conquests" you've made over the school and maybe throw in a clip or two of all the illegal things you've been getting into like street racing in the desert or stealing from the drug store."

His green eyes bugged at that.

"Uh-huh, I know all about what you've been up to, sweetie. So if you want this to stay between you and me, I suggest that you keep it in your pants."

And with that final say in the matter, I dropped him like yesterday's trash and sped off on my motorcycle without a backward glance.

I seriously hated dealing with pigs like that. Why he would ever think that I would even be acquaintances with scum like him, I would never know.

Shaking my head, I raced home, intent on taking a shower or two to wash Vince's stench off me.

* * *

—Aria's Mechanics Shop, Optimus' POV—

Even before he came to a full stop in front of her shop, Optimus knew that his charge, Aria, was in a foul mood.

"Fucking sonofabitch."

 _Clang!_

"Thinks I'm some–"

 _Thump! Thump!_

"–fucking hooker–"

 _Crunch! Bang!_

"–or something."

 _Clank! Clink._

Even if it wasn't for her surprisingly excessive use of foul language he heard her exuding, he could tell right away that something was wrong.

"Aria," he tried but he got no response. She probably hadn't heard him over the loud sounds coming from under the car she was working under or the rock music that blared from somewhere in the shop.

"Pfft, as if he could handle –"

 _Squeeeeaaak!_

"–me."

"Aria," he tried again more forcefully.

Still no response.

 _Clang!Clink._

"One of these days–"

 _Click. Squeak! Click. Squeak!_

"–someone's gonna–"

 _Clang!_

"–beat his ass,–"

 _Thump. Clink._

"–and he won't–"

 _Click. Click. Clang!_

"–know what hit–"

 _Thunk! Thunk!_

"–him."

"Aria!" he shouted.

 _BANG! CRASH!_

There was a yelp of pain followed by more colorful language.

Sliding out from under the car on a creeper, as he believed that was what humans called the wheeled device, Aria sat up slowly, massaging her forehelm where a nasty dark patch of skin seemed to already be forming.

Slowly, she turned towards him and scowled. "Will you Autobots quit doing that!"

Still frowning, she dropped the wrench she was clutching in the other hand and picked up a tattered rag to clean her hands off with before snatching up a remote of some kind and turning off the music.

"I swear, one of these days, I'm gonna get a heart attack or bash my brains in accidentally because of you bots sneaking up on me at work all the time."

Optimus found her anger almost amusing in a way. It was the most emotion that she had ever shown, or at least around him that is. Not only that, but she somehow managed to sound enraged but her expression just looked a bit annoyed, as though she was trying to school her usual stoic expression into place.

"My apologies Aria," he said trying to keep his amusement from entering his tone. "Are you alright?"

"I'll live," she grumbled, massaging the damaged area. "Anyways, no offense, but what are you doing here? Ratchet said that you were gonna be out on a solo mission scouting for energon."

Optimus felt slightly surprised that she would even have taken the time to find out such info, but he guessed that he should not have underestimated her. With her mysterious ways, she always seemed to find out about a lot of things beforehand. It was part of what made her so unique.

"I am, but I was hoping that you would accompany me as well," he asked. He didn't say that he planned on making her keep her promise to tell him more about herself.

She snorted. "It wouldn't be much of a solo mission then."

There was silence for a moment as she turned her gaze back to him. Aria seemed to be studying him with those piercing grey optics of hers, visually picking him apart and analyzing him. It was like she somehow knew that he was up to something and was trying to decipher what it exactly was that he wanted.

"Fine, give me ten minutes tops to clean up this mess and close up shop." And with that being said, she did just that, lowering the small green car she had been working under and putting her tools back neatly before heading up a set of stairs that he hadn't noticed before.

Looking around, Optimus once again noticed a lack of signs indicating that at least one of her parental units came by. Didn't she say that her male creator used the device called a wheelchair? So why wasn't there any devices indicating that a disabled human came by every-so-often? Wouldn't there be a least a ramp or something of the like? So why didn't Aria?

He didn't get time to ponder this further as Aria came down the stairs in wearing fresh outfit, hair pinned in a small knot at the back of her head, and black boots making little noise as descended, flicking off the lights as she went. Once she was certain that she had locked her shop up nice and tight, she climbed into the passenger's side, and they were off.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

For a while, it was silent as Optimus drove to who knows where. I wasn't stupid. I knew that his invitation to scout for energon with him was mostly just a cover-up. This was about that rash promise I had made to him.

Without my really even noticing, my fingers started to drum out a pattern on my right thigh, tracing the part on my thigh where my pants were dyed black at the top but were colored red the rest of the way with dye drips going down where the two colors clashed near the top of my thigh.

Could I do it? My life wasn't as happy and cheerful as I made it out to be to everyone else. And last time I checked, people didn't approve of liars.

My restless fingers now found the black leather bracelet I wore on my other wrist, the one with the scarlet flames painted on it, and outlined with yellow like those designs you see on a hot rod. Carefully, my fingers spun it around my wrist as my other hand played with the corner of my dark blue tank top, picking at it a bit.

What was he going to ask me? Optimus was pretty hard to decipher, so I had no idea what he might ask me and mentally prepare myself beforehand. And what would he say? Would he be disgusted? Mad? Angry? Distrustful? Any one of those scenarios seemed likely.

My creeping appendage moved upward, this time grasping and tugging at my ruby and silver necklace, called a Gemvara eternal flame pendant. I'm sure that if Optimus hadn't spoken I might have just very well have broken the necklace.

"Are you alright Aria?" he asked kindly in his deep, baritone voice.

"Nervous," I replied honestly, "but I'll manage."

Have I ever mentioned how slightly disconcerting it is to talk to a giant, robotic, alien being while riding inside of him? You can never tell what mood he's in exactly except when you listen to the sound of his engine and watch how fast he's going.

"What were you so upset about earlier, if you do not mind my asking?" he suddenly asked seemingly out of the blue.

 _Well at least he started with an easy question_ , I thought as I made a slightly aggravated sound.

"It's just this kid, Vince, from school. I sure you've heard the other kids mention him before."

The Prime made a 'hmm' sound that I took as a yes.

"Well, ever since I met him, that pompous jerk has made it his life's conquest to get me to go out on a date with him. I've told him multiple times 'no' but he still won't take the hint."

"And why do you refuse to allow yourself to be courted by him?" the Autobot leader sounded genuinely curious about this.

I gave a very unladylike snort. "'Courted'. I haven't heard anyone use that word in a while," I mumbled before continuing in a louder tone, "Optimus, the thing you need to understand about high school is that it's all about getting a good GPA if you're smart, sex, drugs, gossip, and occasionally alcohol if you're really stupid. It sad, but it's the truth. All Vince really wants is another quick lay, not an actual relationship with me. Once he got into my pants, if you understand what I'm trying to say here, Vince would eventually toss me to the side once he got bored of me and then later go chase after some other poor girl."

Optimus made another 'hmm' sound. "This high school does not sound like a very safe place," he rumbled.

In response, I couldn't help but laugh a bit. I don't know why, but I always seemed to be able to let loose a little when it was only him around. "It usually never is," I smirked. "But it's nothing compared to dealing with zombie-cons or Decepticons. Hell, even climbing the shark-infested, corporate ladders on Wall Street are more dangerous than this cakewalk."

Optimus' entire frame rumbled a bit around me, and I got the impression that he was actually laughing a bit too. "True," he admitted his tone a bit lighter. "But that still does not explain what happened today."

"Right, sorry," I admitted grudgingly, before continuing on with my story. "Well you see, today Vince was a bit more forward with his intentions and well…I don't take very kindly to others implying that I am a whore or slut of some kind." I sighed softly as there was no easy way to say this. "He was basically implying that I was the type of person who would…What was that word Ratchet used? Ah, interface. Well he was implying that I would interface with just about anyone, including himself, just because they asked."

I listened as Optimus's rumbling engine seemed to rev almost angrily, watching a bit in alarm as the speedometer increased from 60mph to 70mph in less than a couple seconds before decreasing again, like the bot was trying to cool down.

"I admit," he finally said, a dark note in his voice, "I do not like the sound of this Vince from your descriptions or the others'. No one should ever imply such a thing of someone else."

I couldn't help but feel a bit touched at his righteous anger over what someone had said to me. His actions were really quite endearing, though I highly doubted that I would ever admit that to him.

Allowing a tiny smile to grace my features, I hesitantly reached out and patted the dashboard a couple times. "Yeah, he's one of the more distasteful humans of the bunch, but thankfully not all humans are like that."

"You speak as though you are not one of them," he noted.

I shrugged. "To be completely honest, I sometimes I rather that I wasn't. After hearing that your own species is capable of such violent acts and even have some people who even laugh at the bloodshed and carnage around them, revel in it even, well…it's enough to rattle your perception of your own species."

"The voice of experience, I assume." It wasn't a question, just an observation, a very accurate observation; I nodded mutely anyway.

Silence reigned in and I found myself looking out at the slowly darkening scenery outside the window.

"Aria." He sounded almost hesitant as he said my name, and I noticed how he pronounced as 'ARE-yuh' in its two syllable form instead of 'AR-ee-uh', as three syllables. "Why are your bangs dyed blue and red?"

I couldn't help it; I burst out laughing. "Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't be laughing," I giggled, and really I shouldn't have been since it wasn't all that funny. "It's just…that was the most unexpected I have ever been asked in my life. Here I was expecting you to ask me a question that would have have me explaining my whole life story and you go out and ask me my reasons behind dying my hair certain colors." I chuckled a bit more.

"I hope that you someday will," he admitted, "Tell me your life story that is, but for now I do not think that that is what you need right now."

That was thankfully enough to sober me up. "Right, right, well, to answer you I actually did it because of what the colors themselves represent."

"Please elaborate," he requested politely, still sounded interested.

"You see red symbolizes things like love, energy, power, strength, and passion as well as things like anger and danger. And blue symbolizes tranquility, love, loyalty, security, trust, and intelligence as well as coldness and fear. For me, having them together is like…yin and yang; they are both opposites yet similar at the same time. And, I kind of see those characteristics those colors have in myself. Some I even aspire to have."

"So it is like a representation of yourself but also a daily reminder of your goals and dreams," Optimus concluded.

I nodded. "Exactly. Actually, I was thinking of doing black and white too, but I decided that have more in common with the colors red and blue."

"Yes they certainly seem to suit you, but my opinion may be a bit biased."

I smirked and when the curtain of silence fell again, it was more comfortable this time.

He seemed to be processing my words in greater detail, but eventually he said, "Aria, it has been on my processor for some time but I have been curious to know where did you learn the phrase "'Til all are one?" Ever since you first said it to me before myself and the others went to face Megatron, I have been curious to know you knew this phrase."

It was yet another unexpected question. I think I should just from now on start expecting the unexpected from the Leader of the Autobots. It seemed like a common thing with him.

My blonde brows furrowed. I tried to recall where I had heard it from but the memory was fuzzy. No scratch that, I was drawing a complete blank unless bright lights and speeches had anything to do with it. Eventually, I sighed and shook my head. "I'm sorry Optimus. I honestly don't know where I picked that up from. What does it mean?"

"It used to be a rallying cry," he rumbled, "meaning "until the end of the Great War", but now it just means "until all are rejoined into the Allspark of Primus.""

"I see."

Honestly, I wanted to ask what the Allspark was or who Primus was, but now didn't really seem like the time. Besides, I made a promise to Optimus that I intended to keep. I could ask my own questions later. If there ever was a later for us that is.

Ignoring those depressing thoughts, I boldly asked, "So what else do you want to know Prime?"

I knew, even as I said the words, that I was asking for trouble. But here I was, like a foolish spider dangling over a pit of flames, blatantly asking for it.

"I think that that is all for tonight."

For a moment, all I could do was blink in surprise.

Then, " _What?!_ "

I was so shocked that I didn't even realize that I was raising my voice.

"I said that I think–"

"I know what you said, I'm just surprised that you're letting me off the hook so quickly," I admitted, still feeling a bit blind-sided.

"Aria," he said in his deep timbre that immediately gained my attention. "I fully intend to learn as much as I can about you, _in due time_. But I do not intend for you to simply reveal all of your secrets to me in one day just because you promised to answer any question that I asked. That destroys the point of earning one another's trust. I believe that you will tell me more about yourself in your own time, once you learn that I can be trusted. But for now, I think that is quite enough. It is late, and I think that it is high time to go back to base."

He sighed. Or at least I think he did as the A/C released a small gust of wind.

"Aria, you must understand that I will never force you to do something that you do not want to do. Your secrets are your own, and I know that eventually you will tell someone. It may not be myself, but I know that you will tell someone more about yourself in the fullness of time."

He said no more for the rest of the drive after that.

Honestly, for a while, all I could do was stare blankly ahead of me but eventually though, I felt as a small but genuine smile spread across my features and came naturally to me as breathing. "Thank you Optimus," I said quietly. "You have no idea how much those words actually mean to me."

* * *

—Autobot Base—

"It's quiet here," I said, stating the obvious as I sat on his shoulder. "Too quiet. Where's Ratchet?"

"Taking some much needed recharge I suspect," the Prime replied quietly, imploring me to keep my voice down as well. "As for the others, I do not know."

"Something's up," I said. "If there was a Decepticon attack, I think that the team would have called you in by now."

Underneath me, I felt as Optimus hummed in agreement, though he did not say a thing. We made our way through the eerily silent base, but I couldn't help but think of all those times in horror movies where the foolish characters crept through an eerily silent base or something and eventually died some horrifically spectacular death.

Thankfully though, we did not encounter flesh-eating zombies along the way and made it safely to the main room of the base where Raf and Miko seemed to be arguing over something, only to stop when they spotted us, or namely us.

"They're hiding something," I whispered, though I knew Optimus heard me as I was sitting right next to his left audial fin.

He did not reply.

Striding over, I could see the barely disguised panic on their features more clearly as Optimus confronted them.

"Raf, Miko. Do either of you know where the others have gone?

"why no, sir, we do not know," lied Miko.

"Miko is correct," Raf agreed, sounding like a robot as he lied just as badly. "We do not know."

"Why would we know?" Miko asked in their shared, falsely cheery voices.

Like the time we had first met agent fowler, I waited for some divine force to strike me down with a bolt of lightning or something. These guys were so bad at lying that it wasn't even funny. For one, I knew for a fact that Miko never spoke so formally to anyone, even Optimus. Raf on the other hand, sounded like a robot; they were both too stiff and their smiles were obviously forced.

Knowing that Optimus would probably be too courteous to call them out on their lies, I said, "Okay you two, spill. Now."

* * *

—Hours Later—

Sitting on one of the catwalks with my feet dangling over the edge, I watched as Optimus lectured the others about disregard for safety, the importance of rules, and last but not least: the importance of staying hidden. I knew that I shouldn't have, but I found that watching Optimus lecturing the others was quite entertaining. I just wish I knew how he managed to remain so calm as he talked yet still manage to shame them all with that soft but firm tone. In a sense, it was like watching a parent lecture their kids, except these 'kids' were giant metal aliens and Optimus' words seemed to act like a hammer-blow on each of them.

Truthfully, I think that he just may very well have saved all their sorry asses because if he hadn't started lecturing them, I would have. After hearing about their little racing escapade and subsequent encounter with the Decepticon, I was ready to rip them all a new one. Knowing me, I would not have remained calm like Optimus; I would have immediately started yelling at them for an hour straight before setting them multiple impossible tasks like scrubbing the base from top to bottom with a tooth brush or something.

Anyways, by the time Optimus was done chastising them, both human and Autobot alike looked like they were either going to be violently ill or just curl into themselves and die.

Is it wrong that I felt some satisfaction that I was not the one being lectured?

Anyways, despite the slightly sour note that my day ended on, I couldn't help but have a newfound respect for my guardian. He had blatantly ignored his own thirst for knowledge to give me a reason to trust me. And maybe, just maybe, I could return the favor and find it in myself to tell him about who the real Aria Slade-Cage is.

* * *

A little deep but I hoped you all enjoyed it. Please review, favorite, and follow to your hearts content! But seriously, feed the review monster as it is always hungry.

If you have any questions, comments, concerns, or gripes, you guys know where to put them.

Also, you guys do realize that if I pull this off, that the number of chapters will be a grand spanking total of _over_ 65 chapters? Just something to think about.


	13. A Holy Crisis

Whooo! Unlucky number thirteen. Maybe I should have saved this for Halloween? Nah, I'm not _that_ cruel.

Anyways, I sorry, life is a fickle little bitch who likes screwing with me apparently but I hope you like these two, yes T-W-O, chapters as compensation. They took me ages to write.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime in any way, shape, or form. Sadly. Also, any and all other recognizable sources (like White Collar) go to their creators and I do not own them as well.

* * *

 **Chapter 13: A Holy Crisis**

—Aria's POV—

I looked out the tiny window at the world that lay miles below me. Apart from the from the occasional white cloud that drifted past, all I could see was a blotchy, endless sea of dark green that seemed almost unreal.

 _Gods, I hope they don't freak out too badly_ , I thought as I turned back to the files on the tray-table before me, thinking of the Autobots. Yes, before you ask, I was in fact on another trip again. However, this time, I had decided to skip the four day drive and fly commercial. I wasn't too fond of the idea but it would be almost nigh impossible to snag a parking space where I was going, and I didn't want to risk my car getting stolen either.

Anyways, at least this time though, I had been kind enough to leave a message for them, as well as a…parting gift.

* * *

—Meanwhile, Base, Optimus's POV—

"WHO DID THIS?!" came an enraged roar from Ratchet's Medical bay.

Optimus, who had just awoken from stasis and was leaving his berthroom, immediately rushed over to see what was wrong. What he did not expect however was to see his CMO apparently standing in the middle of his medbay, wrench in hand, shaking with evident fury as he looked up at something.

Following his gaze, Optimus saw what had caused his medic's ire.

Suspended above the medbay doors on thin wire was a wooden sign that read 'Hatchet's Lair' in fiery red letters. But that wasn't the least of it. On top, sharp little red horns could be seen sticking up, while at the bottom, a pointed tail curved and curled underneath as if to underline the words, along with a pitchfork whose handle went through the letters 'H', 'T', and 'H' in the pronoun 'Hatchet' and formed the letter 'E' with points of the weapon.

It was rather comical in a way, but Ratchet didn't seem to think so.

"WHAT KIND OF A FRAGGING PIT-SPAWNED GLITCH-HEAD DID THIS?!" he roared, brandishing his favorite tool.

Optimus guessed that he should just count himself lucky that the children were not on base at the time to hear such profanity spewing from the medic.

Apparently attracted by all the shouting and cursing, the others carefully peeked in from behind Optimus.

"Uh, what's going on?" Bulkhead asked Optimus nervously in a low-as-possible undertone.

The Prime leaned down and whispered back, "Apparently someone decided to add some…décor to Ratchet's medbay."

The other three nodded, now spotting the wooden sign, before eyeing Ratchet's seething form warily. They knew that a messing with the medic's medbay was a surefire way to get beamed in the head with one of Ratchet's 'wrenches-of-doom' before being dragged off by him to be remade into a giant toaster or some other device of the medic's choosing. Basically, messing with either his medbay or any of his tools was a guaranteed way to get onto the medic's bad side.

Once, Cliffjumper and Bumblebee had apparently attempted to 'remodel' Ratchet's medical bay and…well, let's just say it did not end well for those two when the mech had found out. They were just lucky to make it out with a couple dozen dents across their frames before Optimus had intervened.

Now, it seemed that Optimus would be the only one attempting to assuage the CMO's wrath yet again at the risk to his own health.

Gathering up his courage, Optimus stepped forward, placed a servo on the scarlet and white mech's shoulder and said as calmly as possible, "We will find out who did this, Ratchet, but in the meantime, perhaps it would be best if you cal—."

He did not get to finish as the older mech whirled around with surprising speed for his age and pointed a wrench threateningly at the other three bot's.

"Alright! Which one of you glitch-heads did this?!" Ratchet snarled at them.

No one came forward, but neither did anyone take off running in the other direction. They all seemed too afraid to move, like Ratchet was going to smite them the second they so much as twitched an optic.

As though summoned by the evidence of mischief, Optimus could almost hear Aria's voice for a moment, saying unconcernedly, " _Ratchet the Hatchet indeed_ ," perhaps with one of her signature, roguish smirks on her face.

The Prime shook the random thought off, more concerned with the situation at hand.

The enraged medic took a menacing step forward, still waving the wrench around in his servo. "Who?!" the medic of doom snarled, causing all bots present—except Optimus, of course—to jump a bit.

"Nope, not me."

"I didn't."

:{ _Me neither._ }:

Arcee, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee all said at once, shaking their helms vehemently, and trying to impress their innocence upon the angry med-bot.

For some reason, Optimus got the feeling that they were all telling the truth.

Ratchet, however, did not look convinced. His optics narrowed on the three of them as he took another step forward. "Oh _really?_ " he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he took a couple more steps forward. "And I suppose that that sign just happened to _paint itself_ and _magically hung itself_ up in _my medbay_?"

"Ratchet," Optimus tried calling out in a warning tone, though to no avail.

Apprehension was now clear in all the Autobot's faces now as Ratchet bared down on all three of them.

"A likely story!" the scarlet and white bot snapped.

:{ _I swear to the Allspark that we didn't do it! Honest!_ }: Bumblebee wailed.

Optimus needed to do something quick, before things got out of hand. "Ratchet, please," he said in his most authoritative tone yet, as he placed his servo on his oldest friend's shoulder once again, but more firmly this time. "I think it would be best if you attempted to calm down a bit."

Now the medic whirled on him, evident anger flashing in his optics. However, before the medic could either say a thing or swing a wrench, an alert sounded from the monitors in the main room of the base.

" _Saved by the alarm, big guy_ ," his charge's voice whispered in his audial yet again, as the medic glared at the lot of them before storming off, the others giving him a wide berth.

Once again, Optimus found it slightly odd that he could practically hear his charge's voice when he was faced with certain situations that he knew that she would most likely comment on. Brushing it off again though, he just chalked it up to how much time he had been spending with the intriguing girl.

Be that as it may, so lost in thought for a moment he was, Optimus did not really even register that he had followed the others into the main room until he heard Ratchet's voice.

"It's a high-frequency signal with an embedded message," the medic grumbled, typing into the monitor. After a second or two, another window appeared to the side in the human's dialect.

"' _Gone on another trip. Will be back in a couple days. Don't worry. I will see you soon. –Aria_ '," Bulkhead read aloud from the medic's left, apparently having forgotten the medic's previous ire that had been directed at him moments before.

Upon hearing this, the Prime felt his lip-plates turn downwards a little. Truth be told, while Optimus wasn't altogether pleased that his charge had up and disappeared again, he was at least thankful that she had at least notified them somewhat. Still, he felt almost a little sad because he had really thought that he was getting through to her over the past few days.

Anyways, Arcee, who had also been reading the message from Ratchet's right, noticed something else. "Wait, there's more," she said, catching his attention. "' _PS: I hope Ratchet enjoyed my little present._ '"

By now, the medic was shaking with visible fury. Optimus feared that he might blow a fuse or something before the medic exploded.

" **ARIA!** "

* * *

—Aria's POV—

At 5:30 PM (EST), my plane touched down at LaGuardia Airport in New York City. Yes, I was in the famed city that never sleeps.

Now if you have never been to this behemoth of a city, you should know that it is very big, very noisy, and very crowded. If you don't mind those factors, plus the insane traffic around 8 AM and seeing the occasional weirdo on the streets (especially around Times Square), then good for you. Personally, I just see a million more ways to get myself killed, shot at, or mugged, at the very least; I can already feel the oncoming headache.

Anyways, the reason that I was even here was that one of my contacts here had told me that they may have a lead for me both on MECH and one of my…other issues. But aside from that ominous confirmation, they had refused to tell me any more over the phone, saying that anybody could be listening in over the unsecure line. However thankfully, they had agreed to tell me everything on the condition that we meet up in person.

Truthfully, I was wary at first. I mean this seemed a bit too coincidental for my tastes. Here it was, the two things that I sought the most, and they both just happened to suddenly appear like magic for the same person, who was someone that I coincidentally happened to know. Okay, maybe I was being a little paranoid, and I knew full well that my contact was pretty good at digging up things. I will give them that. But it all seemed a little suspicious to me.

Or maybe that was just the years of paranoia talking.

Anyways, I decided to go out on a limb and trust my contact, catching the first flight I could out to New York City. And now here I was, in the Big Apple, riding in a yellow taxi all the way to a friend's house where I would be staying the night.

Unfortunately for me, fate decided that I would not be able to sit in contemplative silence.

Okay, let me explain. In New York, there are at least two types of cabbies: the chatty Cathy's and the silent Steve's. The latter was easily much more tolerable than their talkative counterparts as they were usually very respectful and polite to their customers. Usually. As for the 'I-cannot-seem-to-turn-my-mouth-off' types, I swear that they will literally talk your ear off. Of course, I can't exactly blame them since being a cab driver in one of the most culturally diverse cities in the US is bound to do something to one's mind. After all, cab drivers, like maids and butlers, are goldmines for information since they hear all sorts of interesting conversations, so they are bound to pick up a thing or two. Unfortunately, the constant animated chatter is enough to tire even the most energetic person.

"…and you would not believe how many people I hear that talk about going to see those places where that spidey film was shot," the dark-skinned driver chattered animatedly in his slightly accented voice. I think it was Southern Jersey or possibly Brooklyn; it was hard to tell.

Anyways, the guy went on and on about matters that I didn't care to pay a lot of attention to. Occasionally, I would nod or utter some agreement, but mostly, I just stared unseeingly out the window, trying to ignore him.

Finally though, I was granted mercy when the yellow car came to a stop in front of a huge, expensive-looking mansion made out of white marble.

The cabbie whistled in appreciation. "Whoa, sweet digs. You sure that this is the right place?" he asked as I stepped out of the taxi.

"Yep," was all I said in response as the guy got out as well, grabbed my small suitcase from the trunk, and handed it to me with the handle already sticking up. At least he knows how to be somewhat of a gentleman.

Paying the cabbie his due amount, I got away from him as quickly as quickly as I could and tromped up the white stone steps without so much as a backward glance or a goodbye.

Practically feeling the eyes of passing people on me, I knew all too well that I looked like I did not belong in this neighborhood. Honestly, even I felt a little out of place too, like I was naked almost, as I did not have my usual twin baton staffs on me. I kept wanting to glance over my shoulder to see if someone was trying to sneak up behind me, but I forcibly kept my eyes trained ahead of me.

Anyhow, knocking on the fancy glass front door, I did not have to wait long for a reply, for a young woman, a maid I assumed, answered the door, about five seconds afterwards.

"Can I help you?" she asked, glancing over my blue and red bangs, ripped jeans and black leather jacket disdainfully.

Ignoring her look, I said politely, "Yes, I'm here to see June Ellington. Is she in?"

Probably figuring that I was just some riffraff off the streets trying to scrounge some money from her employer, she shook her head and said, "I'm sorry but unless she is expecting you, ma'am"—she looked as if she might hurl as she said that single word—"you cannot come in."

She tried to quickly close the door but I caught it easily with one and held it open. "Look, just tell her that her friend Aria is here to see her, okay? She'll probably tell you to let me in anyways." Noticing the brunette's look of skepticism, I added, "Please. If you don't come back in five minutes then I'll leave and I'll never bother you again, alright?" I released my grip on the door to show that I was serious.

The maid looked as if she dearly wanted nothing more than to just slam the door in my face and never see me again, but she just nodded reluctantly before shutting the door—with a little more force than necessary might I add—in my face and leaving me standing there; there was a faint clunking noise from the other side of the door, signifying that she had locked the door once it had been firmly closed behind her.

I waited and about three and a half minutes later, I heard the sound of the locks scraping before an elderly, but beautiful, dark-skinned woman appeared at the door this time. As soon as her dark eyes fell upon me, her full rosy-pink lips stretched to reveal a blindingly white smile as she threw open the door and pulled me into a hug, her white shawl and short, honey-cocoa curls flying.

"Aria, darling, it's been too long," she gasped excitedly as she kissed both my cheeks before pulling me into another hug. "Please, come in, come in."

Seeing she had grasped my wrist firmly, I had no choice but to comply and allow the surprisingly strong woman to lead me indoors. As it was, the inside of the beautiful estate was just as grand as the last few times I had stayed her; it had changed about as much as the lovely woman who owned it.

It was a spectacular French Renaissance-style residence, which boasted of Turkish influences, and was an overall visual work of art. With 12 bedrooms, 11 baths, a teak paneled library with a fireplace and built-in window seat, a smoking room with ceiling frescos and gold leafing, a formal wood-paneled dining room with stained glass windows, a drawing room with carved ceilings, an English basement, two kitchens, a hall made entirely of ornate Egyptian marble, and an entry hall with a sweeping grand staircase and an almost-unbelievably-intricate honeycomb ceiling constructed of wood, it is hard to imagine how anyone but royalty could live here. I sometimes feel as though when I'm here, that I could walk into a pile of shit and come out wearing a formal brown suit or something. In all honestly though, you need to see this place to believe how spectacular it is.

"Dear, it is so wonderful to see you," the woman said in her obviously well-used voice—a product of her younger days when she used to sing at various clubs and bars with her late husband—as she held me out at arm's length as if to get a better look at me.

Gently touching one of the hands that held my face, I said with one of my few genuine smiles, "It is wonderful to see you too, June. You've barely aged a day."

She laughed, barely upsetting the thick necklace around her neck that was made of interlocking gold hoops. "Please, I'm just a simple old widow who has a few meagre luxuries left in life," she scoffed sarcastically. "Amy, could you please be a dear and take Miss Slade-Cage's bags up to the attic bedroom and air it out while you are at it?"

The maid from before, or Amy as I guessed she was called, merely said a simple "Yes, Mrs. Ellington," nodding graciously and smiling as she took my bags from me, only to shoot me a venomous look when June's back was turned.

"Please, please, Aria, come, sit down. You must be tired," the kindly woman said, oblivious to the conflicts between myself and her staff, as she led me into the sitting room, sitting in one of the plush armchairs while I seated myself on a sofa. Once we were both considerably comfortable, June fixed me with one of her attentive expressions as she said, "Now what have you been up to dear? You haven't been getting into too much trouble have you?"

"You know me too well June," I couldn't help but smirk as another butler set a tray ladened with a fancy pair of overturned crystal glasses and a bottle of Merlot wine. Graciously accepting a filled wineglass, I sat back and hummed thoughtfully for a moment. "Where to begin? Hm…Ah! I know."

And so I began to tell her about my schooling and work in my auto-shop. I even told her about Jack, Rafael, Miko, Fowler, and the bots, though I only mentioned them as friends in general, not mentioning about that they were giant metal aliens or anything. All the while, she listened attentively, commenting every so often when I paused but never interrupting me. When I finished, June was silent for a moment, taking a small sip of her wine before finally saying something.

"Well it seems like you have been up to a lot. Probably even more than you are letting on, I bet, but it is nice to know that you are at least trying to make friends. I was worried that you would be lonely or something, living all by yourself like that, but this is quite nice to hear," she said, eventually setting her empty glass back on the tray.

I nodded faintly. "Thanks for listening, June," I said softly, finishing off the last of my wine before mimicking her movements and setting the glass down as well.

She smiled, her eyes seeming to light-up with the gesture. "Anytime, dear. Now"—she clapped her hands together, standing up—"Let's eat, shall we?"

* * *

—Nighttime—

 _Goddamned stupid different time zone scuzz_ , I thought irritably, rubbing my eyes as I walked out onto my balcony, leaning against the stone as I stared out at the city lights. June had kindly put me up in my old room in the attic that had a spectacular view of the New York City skyline from its terraced balcony.

That's a great word to describe my little room in June's mansion: spectacular. Complete with a small library, a comfortable bed, walk-in closet, and a mini living room, it was like living in an apartment as it also had a small kitchen, dining room, a fancy-false fireplace, and a large stone balcony that even had its own small chair and tables so that I could have a picnic out there or something.

Anyways, for some reason, sleep could just not find me. Or maybe I just couldn't find it. There is, after all, a reason most people don't sleep well in new places. The brain goes on alert in unfamiliar environments, sensitive to possible dangers. Add some very real dangers and the chances are low that you'll get any shut-eye at all. As it was, I chalked it up to the time zone difference and the 'new' environment keeping me up, but that knowledge in itself wasn't much help. So now my only options were to either take a sedative, lay in my bed and wait for sleep to claim me, or go for a run or something and then try to sleep. Sadly, my brain can only take so much before it goes on strike, and my continuous nights of staying up late and stressing over things before going to bed and waking up early, were not helping my case. So, with a final sigh, I walked back inside, pulled on some tennis shoes, and tip-toed down the grand staircase.

Unlike in the daytime, when the house was lively and filled with light, the large estate was rather eerie in the dead of night. Imposing shapes seemed to form the shadows as the darkened furniture played tricks on the eyes of passersby. But I did not pay them any mind. I could easily traverse this entire house without even looking. Even the pressing silence did not unnerve me, as it did to so many others. As I was in my element, I was completely calm and relaxed.

That is, until I heard the small clink of glass and the sound of some unknown liquid being poured into a glass.

Immediately, I tensed, now really wishing more than ever that I had my batons handy.

Had someone decided to break in?

Just when I was starting to wonder if I should take my chances and try confronting the intruder, a man's voice came the gloom-shrouded dining room.

"I saw the best mind of my generation get run down by the drunken taxicab of absolute reality," said a voice from the darkness.

 _Oh_ , I knew who that was.

Walking over, I mock growled, "What the hell, Mozzie? Sitting in the dark, misquoting Ginsberg?"

There was just enough light coming in from the window that I could see the bald head and glasses of my unusual friend, Moz, sitting at the dining table with a glass.

"The light is how they find you, man," he said tiredly, gripping my hand briefly in a handshake.

Following in accordance to social etiquette, I politely sat across from him, now able to see Moz's features more clearly in the moonlight.

He was a short, albino man, with absolutely no hair on the top of his head. If I had to take a guess, I would say that he was only about a couple inches taller than my dreaded AP Lit teacher. Anyways, he wore these black-framed vintage Amsterdam glasses and had a rather prominent nose. His features were partially reminiscent of very intelligent rat, with his sweater vest and dress shirt sticking up from underneath. It was like looking at an older, very bald, version of Rafael a bit but without the Latino features.

"So what have you got for me?" I asked after I was seated, determined to immediately jump to the meat of the matter.

If it wasn't obvious already, the man before me was the source I was talking about earlier.

Moz, or Mozzie if you prefer, was a conman with deep connections in the criminal underworld and could get me just about anything, from highly confidential secrets to the latest cutting edge technology. Even with his sometimes disturbingly odd quirks and tendency to be annoyingly paranoid in regards to law enforcement, I will say this for him though: for what Mozzie lacks in charm, height, and/or charisma, he more than makes up for it with his insightful knowledge and invaluable secret sources. He basically is a criminal mastermind with the know-how to get information and other assorted things done. And despite the fact that I didn't even know his real name, or the fact that he tended to stay on the wrong side of the law, I counted him among the few people I could trust the most.

Speaking of which…

Across the glossy surface of the table, he slid over a photograph which I could just barely make out the contents of.

It depicted a man, with very pale features and whose face was partially turned to the side, away from the camera. He had close-cropped hair that was shaved in a military-style crew cut and made it difficult to tell what his hair color really was as it looked to either be a stark white or a pale, platinum blonde. That matter aside though, with a square jawline, dark eyes and hard features twisted in a grim expression, I got the impression that the man was not one to be messed with.

"That's your boy Silas," Moz informed me. "That was taken four days ago in Peru. He and his crew have been in and out of the country shipping who knows what to certain parts of the world. It wasn't much but it was all I could find."

"It's a start," I stated, more to myself though as I stared intently at the photograph of the head-honcho of MECH, as if to memorize his features. "But it's a good start." I looked back up at the invaluable man that sat before me. "And the _other_ part you were talking about?"

At that, I could tell that Mozzie was torn between absolute seriousness and uncontainable excitement to spill all he knew, but also withhold his secrets at the same time so as to keep up the impression of suspense.

"Now, now _that_ took some real k-genius," the balding man said, talking a little more quickly out of eagerness. Bending over, he pulled out a folder from a bag near his feet and slid that over as well.

Cautiously, as if the thing would turn to dust upon contact, I picked it up, opened the file and skimmed over the first page of its contents. As I read farther and farther down the page, that little candle that had slowly been dimming inside of me ever since that trail had gone cold ages ago, now burned anew, brighter than before with a flicker of hope sustaining it.

I tried to not get my hopes up too high but I couldn't help the absolutely feral grin that spread across my features like butter on warm toast, or the glint that lit up my grey eyes and spelled out trouble for those who got in my way.

I was so close. I could feel it.

With some difficulty, I forced myself to stop reading and closed the folder, focusing my attention back on Mozzie, though some part of my mind was still with the contents of the folder in my hands.

"Thanks Moz," I said with real gratitude though sounding slightly subdued. "How much do I owe you this time?" I wasn't dumb. I knew full well that just about everything in life came with a price.

"For that bit of info, my friend, it is free of charge," he said after taking another sip of what I now assumed to be some sort of white wine since he would never drink anything else with such careful consideration. He must have somehow seen my look of skepticism though because he added, "Hey, I may be a conman but even I want this guy caught."

I had to smile at my friend's loyalty. For any other person, I knew that he would probably never ever be caught saying that, but I was one of the few exceptions in life.

Of course, that didn't stop me from teasing him mercilessly when the opportunity presented itself.

"And as for that MECH-Silas character, well—" Moz theatrically appeared to fish around for the right word before continuing "—if he wants to go about taking over the world, he's going about it entirely the wrong way if you ask me. His totalitarian ideals are absolutely abysmal, bordering on the imbecilic."

"Mozzie," I mock gasped. "Since when did you start advocating for other criminals to be caught?"

"I am doing no such thing!"

"Whatever Pinocchio."

He just rolled his eyes after that jab but did not respond, knowing full well when he was beat…and to never pick a fight with me unless absolutely necessary.

That was how he met me actually, right after one of my fights.

But that's a story for another time.

Anyhow, Mozzie brought me back to reality when he asked, "So do you have that gear you were talking about over the phone?"

I blinked.

After our first little scuffle with MECH, I had managed to get my hands on the device that had succeeded in subduing all the soldiers on the train transporting the DNGS. Don't ask for details on how I did it though. All I will say is that it was not easy. Anyways, I had tried dissecting it with my extensive technical knowhow but even I was having some difficulty deciphering its different components and understanding their functions. I had of course mentioned this to Moz and while he was no expert either, he probably knew some people who did. And if they could tell me as much as possible about this device, I could then pinpoint some of the places where MECH had been and uncover some of their intentions. But that was all a big 'if' if Moz didn't pull through on this one.

Snapping back to the present, I nodded, "Yeah, let's take this upstairs shall we?"

* * *

—Next morning—

"Very clever," Mozzie complemented, examining the device critically. "And you said that this took out all the guards on a train?"

I nodded taking a sip from my cup of tea as we sat at the dining table eating our breakfast. Moz had ended up staying the night as we talked late into the night about various subjects, some more serious than others.

"Yeah, it was pretty bad," I confirmed verbally, brushing a stray blonde stand back behind my ear since I was too preoccupied to redo my neat bun. "I mean those men were soldiers and I'm pretty sure they were wearing those rubber sole boots if I'm not mistaken. It must have taken an immense amount of energy to create such an overwhelming surge of electricity that KO-ed all those men even though they technically had rubber protection."

"Actually," the balding man began, "if you take into account the thinness of the sole compared to the mass of the electric current running through the entire train, it could be entirely possible, especially considering most combat-style and steel-toed boots are made with some metal in them, either in the area near the bridge of the foot or in the toe."

"Therefore making it entirely possible to shock someone given the thinness of the sole and relative mass of the electric current," I finished.

Moz nodded before continuing as he analyzed some particular part of the device. "Yeah, but given their history of disregard for human safety, I'm guessing that this may just be a prototype since it didn't actually kill anyone right?"

I made a noise of assent in the back of my throat as I took another sip of the bitter-sweet substance from the porcelain cup.

Suddenly, a high-pitched ringing sounded from the back pocket of my black pants.

"Hello?" I answered, after pulling out my phone and checking for caller ID.

-{ **Are you at June's right now?** }- asked a familiar, gruff voice.

 _Well hello to you too_ , I thought exasperatedly, completely unsurprised that the man on the other end knew that I was in town. "Yeah, Peter," I sighed.

-{ **Good. We have a case.** }-

"I'll be down in five," I said, already out of my chair and grabbing my keys and a black fedora from a hook nearby.

-{ **I'm already outside.** }-

"Oh, okay. I'm coming right now," I said, not really sure what to say, before hanging up.

"Oh, the man interferes yet again," Moz surmised, examining the nails on his right hand.

"Can you please―?" I implored a little impatiently, gesturing at the device.

"Yes. I'll take it back to the lab, run some tests," he said, scooping up the device.

I paused for a moment, looking at the balding guy. "You don't have a lab. You have a storage unit."

"Semantics."

Knowing that it was futile to argue with him about this, I nodded—internally rolling my eyes—and merely said, "Thanks, Moz," before walking out the door, now wearing the fedora.

* * *

—Later—

Walking out onto the front steps, I saw a sleek, sliver car waiting for me.

Not even checking to make sure if it was the right car or not, I opened the passenger side door, plopped myself down in the leather seat and closed the door behind me.

"Howdy, Burke," I greeted the driver coolly.

Peter Burke, a middle-age man with graphite colored hair, wore a grim look and standard work suit and tie that were similar to Agent Fowler's. His rather square jaw was set as he just looked somewhat exasperated at my joviality and roguish smirk.

"Slade we've–"

"Got a case," I finished, interrupting the older man as he pulled from the curb and started driving. "You said. How'd you know that I was in town?"

Jaw working in slight annoyance, the FBI agent determinedly stared straight ahead out the windshield before carefully answering.

"I got a tip off from an anonymous source," the man said in his slightly deep-set voice.

"Ah," I said in a knowing tone, shit-eating grin on my face. "So you were awaiting my arrival anxiously, was it? Jeez, Burke. Aren't I a little young for you? Actually, aren't you already happily married to Elizabeth for that matter?"

This time he really did roll his eyes in exasperation. Not that I blame him. I can be extremely annoying—not to mention infuriating—when I want to be. Okay, so you're probably wondering why this guy doesn't seem to like me, right? Well you see, it's not so much of a dislike of me as it is of our 'relationship' per say. Sure, he's a little wary of how young I am, but even that's not really the issue. Burke just is just one of your average paranoid FBI agents that are skeptical of everyone around him. It's rather amusing actually.

Anyways, he and I met on some less than fortunate terms, let's just say. Long story short, after doing several background checks on me and a couple well-placed tip-offs (or not) on my end, I was hired as a part-time-ish criminal informant to aid the New York City FBI white collar division under his supervision. Of course, to this day, he still suspects that I'm behind a series of crimes that occurred around the time we met, but it has never been proven, and he is just too stubborn to let it go.

"Child," he muttered under his breath.

Deciding that I got my daily quota of jabs in at Burke, my smirk melted and I asked him seriously, "So what have you got for me?"

* * *

—Later—

"So he pretty much just walked in, sat down with you and Hughes, and literally said "Please help me find my goddamn bible"?" I questioned, torn between incredulity and amusement when Burke finished giving me a rundown on the situation. "Wow, this Barelli guy must really want his book back."

Apparently, on a routine stakeout of a well-known mob hangout, the agents watching had gotten a surprise visit from a local mob boss. As it was someone had apparently stolen some special bible from the Barelli's church and they had wanted it back badly enough to go to the FBI for help. And now it was up to us to recover the stolen bible. Sounds stupid right? Well according to Barelli, the mob baron who requested our help to find the book, this bible isn't some ordinary tome that the Gideons leave on the nightstand. It was, in fact, five centuries of history all the way from Naples, which is right up mine and Peter's alley unfortunately.

"Yes, and we're going to be helping him," Peter confirmed in a tone that suggested that he thoroughly disagreed with this decision as we both got out of the car and closed the doors behind us.

"Sheesh," was all I could think of to say as we walked into the church. "This Barelli guy must really want it back. Talk about a religious crisis. And all of this because Hughes doesn't want the archdiocese crawling down our necks because we refused to help recover a medieval bible."

* * *

—Church—

"The bible belonged to the Church of St. Camillus De Lellis in Naples. It was brought here in 1903," the pastor, who was called Father D'Allesio, informed us, leading us further into the church, past several rows of pews and other religious artworks. "Been the heart of our parish. Now this." He gestured to a glass display case that stood on a wooden pedestal and had a large hole in the top from being smashed in.

Three FBI agents stood around it, examining the crime scene for evidence. Two out of the three of them I recognized as they were on Burke's team. In the background, a balding man stood in between some of the church pews nearby, surveying us all critically like he didn't trust us, which he probably didn't as a matter of fact. A couple pews behind him, two more men in different colored suits stood; they were either part of the mob or some other FBI agents.

"No alarm, no witnesses, no sign of a forced entry. It looks like a smash-and-dash," the lone female agent with shoulder-length brown hair, informed us as we all examined the glass strewn area. I nodded at her, receiving a similar gesture in return from her.

Burke turned to D'Allesio. "Anything unusual that night, Father?" he questioned.

"No, Not that I recall," the black-clothed man replied, shaking his head a little.

I watched as Peter turned back to the woman. "Lauren, have ERT run the prints against the parish roster. Something tells me we'll get a few matches."

The balding man, who must have been Barelli, had obviously having been listening in and immediately jumped in to defend his fellow churchgoers. "Nobody from this parish stole that Bible," he insisted in a slightly snappish tone as he came over, the influx of his accent as he spoke proving his ire.

"Oh, sure," Burke agreed sarcastically. "You guys are all choirboys, right, Barelli?"

Deciding that I did not want to deal with a testosterone fueled pissing match today, I looked around the church, noting the lack of security. "No surveillance cameras," I observed aloud, turning to my 'babysitter'.

Apparently not impressed by my success at preventing a FBI versus the Mob fight from ensuing, Barelli turned on me. "The Lord sees all," he said stubbornly, with a hint of hostility in his voice as he pointed upwards to emphasize his point. "And that's good enough for us." He looked around at us as if challenging us to say otherwise.

"Maybe I'm getting my saint whatever's mixed up, but didn't you used to run a soup kitchen here?" Peter randomly shot at the pastor.

I briefly glanced at Burke out of the corner of my eye, though my eyes were glued on Barelli and the pastor as both of them looked visibly uncomfortable; Barelli turned his head away ever so slightly.

 _What are you up to Burke?_ I wondered though his question had given me an idea.

"Not anymore," D'Allesio admitted quietly.

He looked away, giving the impression that he regretted the loss deeply.

* * *

—Later, June's, Aria's room—

"Who steals a Bible?" I asked Moz, walking off my balcony terrace with the man himself in tow. Burke had sent me home so that I might somehow uncover a fresh lead on the case since I worked better that way, or rather, Mozzie worked better without the FBI breathing down his neck.

"People steal everything," he replied bluntly, stating the obvious.

Rolling my grey eyes, I stopped in the doorway that connected my room to the large balcony and turned to face the much shorter man. "But why would we steal one?" As soon as the words left my lips, I noticed the glint in his beady little eyes at the unintentional suggestion and added hurriedly, "Just, in theory."

He looked a little put out at that but continued on anyway. "Uh, they're rare," he admitted, sounding like he was answering a question in a pop quiz.

I nodded thoughtfully, a small frown on my face as I started walking across the room to the little kitchen my room sported, opposite of the glass doors that looked out onto my balcony. "Yeah, it makes them valuable, but not like a Picasso," I reasoned, going over to my kitchen and pouring two glasses of red wine. "It's definitely a niche markets. It's tough to fence. People get weird about buying stolen religious artifacts."

"I think it's an irony thing," Moz commented standing at one side of my little four-person dining table at the end near the fireplace as I set a wine-filled glass on the table before him. "That pesky eighth commandment."

Good old Mozzie and his lack of morals about stealing.

I made a humming sound in the back of my throat as I made my way over to the opposite end with my own glass of wine in hand. "Thou shalt not steal."

Hey, I may not go to church every Sunday or have known the Bible like the back of my hand, but I knew enough about it from my history and English classes I had taken in the past.

"Well, it depends what's important to people," the balding genius said. "Did you know that an original Star Trek dome lunchbox goes for six-hundred bucks? I don't try to explain it."

Taking a sip from my glass and tasting the fruity liquid, I gave him a look but understood what he was trying to say. "No, I can appreciate that, but why this one?" I said slowly, wondering what made this particular book so special.

"Well, you're missing book is famous," Moz informed me. "It's known as the Healing Bible."

I looked up, gripping the back of the seat in front of me. "Really? Attribution."

"I-in 1588, the plague passed through Naples. Father Camillus carried the book into disease-stricken ships in the harbor. Not a single person who touched the Bible died," he explained, reading aloud from one of the papers in his hands.

"Good story," I said, listening intently to my friend.

Moz plowed on. "Twenty years later, a blind girl regained her sight when she rescued the book from a fire. I could give you many more examples," he stated, shaking the papers in his hand a bit as he read from them.

"No, I-I'm sure you could," I assured quickly, not wanting to give the impression that I doubted his information. I may have trusted him with and on a lot of things but even I wasn't up for that entire rant.

Anyways, focusing back on the information given to me, an idea came to mind. "Look, maybe you don't steal it for the money. Maybe you steal it because you're a true believer."

* * *

—Later, FBI HQ—

"A true believer?" Peter repeated with a note of skepticism in his voice after I relayed my idea to him as we walked together through the place. All around you could hear the nonstop should of distant voices, shuffling papers, and phones ringing off the hook.

I raised a flaxen eyebrow, holding my cup of nearly-gone, piss-poor coffee easily in one hand. "You got something better?"

"Every person in that church has a felony record," Peter said, easily walking through the busy area and balancing the open folder I had given him in one hand. "The only people I don't suspect are the ones in prison."

I snorted. Typical Burke.

Thankfully, I could be as equally, if not more, stubborn as Burke could be. "So let's start with the faithful," I persisted as we passed more rows of paper-laden desks.

"'It cures blind nuns and lepers'," Burke quoted aloud after turning a page and reading one of the notes I had made when compiling info on the missing bible, thanks to the help of a certain someone. "It sounds like every story in Sunday school," he deadpanned, closing the dossier.

My left eye twitched in annoyance.

Of course, sometimes Peter's combined paranoia, sheer bull-headed stubbornness, and skepticism was enough to pique my ire.

"Okay, look at this," I said insistently, pulling a particular article I had uncovered with Mozzie's help from my temporary desk, which was thankfully nearby, and showing it to him. "In 1918, thirty-thousand people in New York died from the Spanish flu. No one in this parish even caught a cold."

At that, he started to look like he was taking to the idea, stubborn expression turning thoughtful. "Maybe whoever took it thinks it's gonna heal them," he surmised slowly, turning to look at me.

It was a bit difficult to keep a straight face after my little victory but I somehow managed as I looked him straight in the eyes and said, "It's worth looking into."

* * *

Enjoy!

And please visit my polls and feed the review monster!


	14. A Question of Religion

Chappie numero dos, as promised! Please RR&R folks!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime in any way, shape, or form. Sadly. Also, any and all other recognizable sources (like White Collar) go to their creators and I do not own them as well.

* * *

 **Chapter 14: A Question of Religion**

—Later, Church, Aria's POV—

"Nobody in this church caught the flu?" Burke goggled aloud as we walked through the rows, his voice echoing in the cavernous room and causing the few people that were there to send him dirty looks.

"It's true."

"Why these guys and not the church down the block?" Burke half-complained, looking around and taking in the numerous crosses, golden arches, and stained glass window mosaics. "Because of a book? Tough to swallow."

"I thought you were Catholic," I stated, looking at him with a funny expression.

"Lapsed."

"Oh, so you don't think some higher power could've saved the congregation?" I surmised.

"Oh, I'm more inclined to think they kept the door shut and loaded up on vitamin C."

I snorted; how _Red Masque_ of him. I just loved debating things with Burke just to get a rise out of him or to listen to his 'logical' and blunt-as-possible responses.

"Maybe God works with what he's got," I suggested, a small smirk tugging at the corner of my lips, black shoes barely making a sound on the polished tile floor.

"And if God said, 'Shut thine doors and eat thine oranges?'" Peter probed, obviously unimpressed.

I shrugged. "Why not?"

I could practically feel his exasperation and nonbeliever attitude.

"Alright, look," he said when I turned around to face him. He sounded like a parent trying to explain a vast concept to a small child. "When they dug up King Tut, everybody made such a big deal out of the curse of the pharaoh."

"Yeah, two dozen people who entered the tomb ended up dead," I said, watching him.

"Yeah, they probably caught some old bacterial infection. _Germs_ ," he persisted, "There's your divine intervention."

I arched a gold brow, smirking. "God can't use bacteria?"

Peter inhaled deeply before opening his mouth to respond. "I prefer my miracles with a little more smiting and lightning," he said, his voice echoing a bit around the polished, marble-columned room.

"That seems a little counterintuitive to a miracle but okay."

Before Burke could reply, Father D'Allesio walked up. "Can I help you?" he interrupted.

"Thanks for seeing us again, Father," Peter greeted, ever the diplomat. "We wanted to run down one thing. You didn't tell us your Bible was also known as a healing bible."

The man blinked, looking a little confused as he stopped before us with his fingers interlocked. "I didn't think it was relevant."

I mentally rolled my eyes; even the most obscure detail could prove to be useful in an active investigation.

"Could be," Burke agreed though didn't really sound like he meant it as he watched the Father carefully. "Was there anybody in your church who was a true believer of the _healing_ power of the bible?"

"Someone who was terminally ill? Someone who had a sick family member?" I added helpfully, earning a minute glare from Burke that said "I think he gets the idea. Now shut up."

As the man considered the words, an odd look came over his face.

Oh, he knew _something_ alright.

"I was afraid this might happen," he said, slightly pink in the face and looking as if someone had just tossed him under the bus as he walked a slight ways away from us.

"What?" Peter prodded.

The dark-eyed man sighed softly before turning to face us again. "Mr. Barelli has discouraged the homeless from the church," he began carefully.

"He made you shut down the soup kitchen," Burke acknowledged, tacking on a sarcastic "How Christian of him" to the end of it when the pastor nodded.

"The night of the theft, I let a homeless man sleep in the sanctuary," he confessed in a slightly shaky voice. "His name's Steve."

I rolled my eyes discreetly.

 _Steve. Very helpful_ , I thought sarcastically. _This is New York buddy! There are like fifteen million other Steve's out there!_

"Is he sick?" Burke asked as I kept an eye on the dark-haired man's micro-expressions.

"No. But someone very close to him is."

* * *

—Later—

Walking into the park, we spotted a homeless man who fit the description the pastor had given us.

On a wooden bench, there sat a dark-skinned man wearing dark grey-brown cargo's, a tan camo cover that was obviously military issue, and large, worn-looking button-up shirt that could have either been a navy blue or a dark blue-grey that was rolled up at the sleeves. He had the traces of stubble on his mocha-colored features, as if he had only managed to shave several days ago. Despite his situation though, the young man did not look particularly unhappy—if a bit melancholy—as he lovingly stroked the head of his companion. Next to him sat a black Labrador who had a frosting of slivery-grey on her muzzle on as she laid her head contentedly in her master's lap. She looked a bit thin and her fur looked a bit dull, not shiny and glossy with health. And judging by the look in his dark eyes, you could tell that her master was worried about her a great deal.

"Steve?" Peter tried cautiously, causing the dark-skinned man sitting on the bench to immediately look up at the sound of his name. "Hi. Uh, my name is Peter. This is my friend Aria," he introduced, gesturing to me.

"Hi," I greeted softly, noting how the man eyed us warily.

"Do you mind if we ask you some questions?" Peter asked.

When the man did not verbally object, Burke continued, "The church you stayed in last week, they're missing a bible. You know anything about it?"

Steve looked at us, averting his eyes for a moment to pet his dog, before looking back up at us again. "Yeah. I-I took it," he admitted, his voice getting stronger as he confessed.

I blinked, sharing a look with Peter.

Well that was easy. We usually need to drag an answer out of most people.

I cocked my head to the side slightly. Steve looked pretty shameful as he confessed to what he had done, but the funny thing was I didn't really take him as a thieving-type, especially after that confession. If anything, he seemed more worried about his dog than anything as he continued to stoke her fur, always touching her as if the continuous contact put him slightly at ease.

Apparently also surprised by the response, Peter said, "Great. We need it back."

"No," Steve said, shaking his head as he started to sound frantic. "No, I need it back."

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to keep a calm and even tone so as to not invoke more hysteria in the man. "Where is it?"

As it was though, it didn't seem to help much. "I took it from the church like he asked me to. Now, he said that he'd show me how to help Lucy get better. Then he took it from me. Now, he has not brought it back," he said, his voice rising slightly as his words came out more rushed; he sounded a bit like a rapper as he spoke. "Do you know where he is?" Steve asked, looking between us and sounding almost like a small child who was lost.

Working in my line of work, you learn to exploit weaknesses. You manipulate greed, fear, pride, to make people do what you want. But when you're dealing with true believers, those weaknesses aren't there. All you can do is help or get out of the way.

"No. I wish I did," Burke said simply, shaking his head.

Meanwhile, I surveyed the homeless man more skeptically. "Who asked you to take the Bible from the church?" I asked gently, curious as to who 'he' was.

"Look, he said that he would help Lucy get better," Steve said, his hand still on the dog to whom he was obviously still referring to. "She's not getting better, okay? She's getting worse."

Figuring that this situation called for a change in tactics, I kneeled down and offered a hand for the dog to sniff before gently scratching her behind her ear. "What's wrong with her?" I asked, adopting a concerned tone, though it wasn't hard to do with such a sweet dog.

Immediately at the mention of his dog, the panic in the man's voice faded, replaced with quiet but slightly pained and worried tone and he said lowly, "She's tired all the time. She don't eat nothing." It was pretty obvious how much this man loved his dog as he added in a more hurried tone, "Now if I get that Bible back, she'll get better."

"The man who asked you to take the Bible, did you meet him at the church?" Peter enquired, phrasing his words carefully.

Steve looked nervous once more as I finally stood and he said softly, nodding a bit, "Yeah."

Once more, Burke and I shared another look before turning back to the homeless man.

"Steve, if we showed you some pictures, do you think you could recognize him?" Peter asked.

"We just need to get the Bible back, okay?" Steve said. "'Cause she's fading, all right?"

 _Well that answers that_ , I thought.

* * *

—FBI NYC HQ—

"I'm glad we followed your hunch," Burke approved as we walked through the office mostly side by side though that was a tad difficult with how crowded the place was. "Hope it takes us somewhere."

"Oh, ye of little faith," I couldn't help but say with a smirk akin to the Cheshire cat's grin.

Burke, of course, noticed and said accusingly, "You've been waiting to trot that one out, huh?"

I didn't even deny it. "Been holding onto it since lunch."

Coming to a stop in the small kitchen-like area, Peter immediately made for the well-loved coffee maker intent on having another one to keep himself going. I, on the other hand, stood off to the side watching Lauren and Steve go through a binder that undoubtedly held multiple mugshots of different criminals in New York City, as proven by the several other binders on the table that could be seen through the glass walls of the in the conference room. I didn't need to read their lips to know that looking through mugshots of criminals could be very draining. Trust me, I know this from experience.

Lauren must have felt my gaze because she looked our way before turning back to Steve and saying something. Hopefully, she was finally giving the poor guy a break as she then got up and exited the room.

Eventually, the tired-looking woman came over next to us.

"That bad, huh?" I asked.

"Yeah, 'that bad' was about an hour ago," she deadpanned. Honestly, was the ability to be as blunt as possible a requirement or something to be on Burke's team?

Peter, who had just finished pouring a cup of coffee, noticed Lauren's gaze as she watched him empty the pot. It was quite amusing as she looked ready to fight him over a simple mug of coffee.

"Just give me the damn thing," she demanded of her superior, immediately receiving the object.

* * *

—Couple Minutes Later—

"No luck, huh?" Burke asked Steve as we entered the room.

Poor Steve looked dead tired. His camo cap lay in a rumpled heap on the table and a steel thermos with a black handle stood off to the right of him. Multiple black and dark blue binders emblazoned with the FBI logo on the front of them lay strewn across the table.

On the floor, Lucy was laying on a navy blanket next to her owner's chair.

"No. Not- not really, no. Look, um…I'm sorry I'm not more help to you," he apologized, exhaustion evident in his voice. "My bell got rung pretty good in Fallujah."

"You were in Iraq?" Burke asked quietly, apparently interested as I was.

"Yeah. T-that's where I found Lucy," the veteran admitted quietly, smiling briefly as he looked at his beloved companion and stroked her a bit. "We called in this predator strike on this trigger house. Two hellfires came in…and just destroyed everything. Then I hear this little whimpering so I lift up this piece of roof, and there she was, just wagging her tail." He had such a happy look on his face as he said that that it was almost impossible not to smile a little too. Almost.

"Well, you think you could look at one more book?" Burke asked gently, the silent "for Lucy" hanging suspended in the air.

The man nodded, but my attention was now focused on what was happening outside the conference room as a great disturbance seemed to take place.

"…the rest of you go over there and make sure NYPD doesn't touch anything," I heard Hughes say. "Let's go get it."

There was a soft chorus of "Yes, sir", as the man himself made his way up the stairs to the second level with Jones in tow.

"What's going on?" Burke asked, looking at his boss.

"One of Barelli's men just got shot," he replied.

Everyone seemed to stiffen a bit, even Steve, though I think it had to do something with the palpable tension in the air.

"Who?" Peter asked.

This time Jones answered, sliding over a red file across the smooth surface of the glass table. "Paul Ignazio. Barelli's number two."

The mugshot paper clipped to the front depicted a man that had a slight resemblance to Barelli himself though with more hair, or stubble I guess, and a more tanned complexion holding up a board that read "NYPD 2nd PCT." Above the images and to the right, there was a complete report and other such info as to why Barelli's nephew had been arrested.

 **Name:** Paul Ignazio

 **No.:** 268

 **Crime:** Grand Larceny

 **Address:** 4831 West 26th Avenue, New York

 **When Arrested:** August 29, 2005

 **Previous Arrest:** Multiple

It went on to list other stuff that I didn't care nor did I have time to read at the moment.

"Barelli's nephew," Peter stated, drawing me out of thought.

It was then that Steve caught sight of the picture, his eyes widening. "That's him."

We all looked to him.

"Who?" Burke asked dumbly.

"That's the guy that asked me to take the bible."

* * *

—Later, Docks—

It was late afternoon when we arrived at the crime scene, just a couple hours until sundown. We were on the docks in Brooklyn and you could see that the sun was starting to make the buildings cast late shadows on each other and on the choppy waters of the East river.

Anyways, listening intently to the conversations on the other end of my phone, I ignored the looks I was receiving from some of the other agents and police officers in favor of watching as Burke stepped onto the crime scene with Hughes. I hadn't been allowed onto the crime scene since I was technically a civilian, so I had decided to just hang back at Burke's car as I listened in on the conversations around Burke from the listening bug I had planted on him. Without his knowledge.

He was probably going to flip if he ever found out but it was a necessary evil in my mind. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Or at least I hoped so.

Through the phone, I heard Hughes talking to Peter as they walked toward the body, something about being able to wrap this up quickly.

I listened as was a soft _fwump_ sound of a blanket being pulled back as I heard Peter say afterwards -{ **That's our boy.** }-

Why did he sound so pleased as he said that?

-{ **Close range.** }- the man noted.

-{ **No eyewitnesses.** }- Hughes added in the background, probably standing behind Burke as said man crouched to examine the corpse no doubt.

-{ **Body's not waterlogged. So it's…fresh.** }- There was a shuffling sound and for a moment, I feared that Burke had discovered my bug before I heard a soft clinking sound and him saying, -{ **Twenty-five caliber casing. European gauge.** }-

-{ **It's a twenty-two caliber. This is Brooklyn, buddy, not Bavaria.** }- a rough-voiced man said disdainfully, sounding like he had come to kneel beside Peter. He sounded like the actor Kirk Acevedo from the TV series _Fringe_. -{ **Pete Burke. This is a homicide, not an art exhibit. What are you doing here?** }-

I scowled; I knew who this asshole was.

-{ **Ruiz, I see they let you out of your cubicle.** }- Burke volleyed back with false cheeriness, trying to hide his mutual disdain of the man before him. At least he did a better job of it than that dick Agent Joseph Ruiz.

-{ **Yeah. This is my show now.** }- He sounded so proud of himself as he said that. The turd. -{ **Where's your pet convict?** }-

 _Oh he did not just call me someone's pet!_

Scowling deeply, I tried taking what was supposed to be a calming breath, closing my eyes, and rubbing the bridge of my nose irritably. My list of people I disliked was seriously growing longer and longer. No wonder I could count the number of people I trusted on one hand. Literally.

-{ **I left her in the car with the windows cracked.** }- Burke replied evenly, not backing down.

-{ **What are you doing at my crime scene?** }- Ruiz the irritating prodded, the mere sound of his voice not helping my blood pressure levels in the slightest.

-{ **This tails into my case.** }- From his tone, it sounded like Peter was also having trouble controlling his temper with Ruiz around too.

-{ **This is mob retaliation.** }- the stupid man argued, his very voice causing my blood to boil. -{ **It's my investigation now. If you don't believe me, ask Hughes.** }-

"Oh I will." I snarled under my breath, the knuckles of my clenched fists turning white as I added in a couple choice swearwords, too.

Tearing the device away from my ear, I snapped it shut with enough ferocity to possibly crack the screen, glaring out at some passing agents who stopped to stare and causing them to shrink in their skins a bit as they hurried away.

If there was one type of person I hated more than sexist pigs, it was prideful people whose egos were overly inflated. Sometimes I really wish that I had a shrink ray, then I could minimize the size of their ego's in an instant.

* * *

—Later—

"We're off the case?" I questioned, feigning ignorance as the water sloshed underneath the wooden dock.

Burke was leaning against the railing with his back to the city, facing me as I sat on a bench.

"We've been asked to step down," Burke amended, looking as if someone had taken the wind out of his sails.

Getting up, he came over and sat down next to me on the bench, looking out at the dark water.

"You think this is a retaliation killing by the other family?" I asked lowly, looking at him.

Peter shook his head. "I don't think Paul would've met a Moretti alone by this river, not with all the bad blood in the water."

I continued to watch the man carefully as I said, "Now, if Ruiz is right—"

"That Moretti killed him?" he finished, both of glancing around behind us before turning back to each other. "We may be sitting on the edge of a mob war."

"So, what do we do?"

"I can't do much of anything," Burke growled, though I noticed how he only said 'I' not 'we'. "Ruiz is not willing to share the case file."

"So where's that leave us?" I tried, trying to ignore the mention of our figurative roadblock.

"Like I said, I can't do much of anything." He looked at me meaningfully as he said that.

We sat in contemplative silence for a moment after that. My mind seemed to be working a million miles per minute to figure out a solution to my dilemma. How could we continue the investigation with our hands tied like this?

Hours seemed to pass in a matter of seconds before it finally hit me.

Feigning a chill, I said nonchalantly, "I'm getting a little chilly by this water. Aren't you? Can I borrow your jacket?" Like magic, he turned to me with an accusing look on his face that showed that he was on the verge of saying no. "I swear to you, Peter," I said, my hands held up in surrender, "under no circumstances will I impersonate the FBI."

* * *

—Next Day, Mozzie's POV—

Walking confidently over to the officer in front of Paul Ignazio's apartment with the FBI windbreaker on and a small black case in hand, Moz gave no sign that he wasn't a part of the bureau.

"Where do you think you're going?" the guard asked, stopping him from entering the apartment that had a white fence and yellow tape over it.

"This is Paul Ignazio's apartment, right?" Moz asked, eliciting a nod from the officer. "Hi, Ted Jefferson from the Evidence Recovery Team," he lied easily, holding out his hand for the other man to shake.

"I don't care if you're Thomas Jefferson. I need ID," the man said rudely, ignoring the outstretched hand as he towered over Mozzie.

"Oh, sorry. I pulled a double hommie last night," he apologized, pretending to pat his pockets as he 'searched' for his ID. He sighed, pulling a face that looked slightly panicked. "It's in the van. M-my partner took it to see his girlfriend in Queens."

The man nodded but once again stopped Moz from entering.

"Not my problem, brother," the man said.

"Look, I-I just need a urine swab from the vic's toilet," the balding man persisted to the giant. "If I don't get it soon, it'll spike the cross-reactivity and then—"

"I got orders too, pal," the officer interrupted. "No ID, no pee."

 _Oh the responses that Aria could come up with in reply to that statement._

Deciding that it was time for a change in tactics, Moz looked around for a moment, knowing that Aria was nearby, though he couldn't see her, before he gasped excitedly as if an idea had just occurred to him. "Oh, I know. You can get it," he said, opening up the case and pulling out a long white package containing swabs and an orange tube. "It's easy. All you gotta do is swab around the rim of the toilet. Then drop the swab into the tube, screw the cap on the tube. And bam, we're good to go."

Immediately, the man looked horrified at the idea.

"No way," he blatantly refused, shaking his head. "I'm not doing that."

His expression could only be labeled as 'grossed-out'.

As brilliant an actor that he was, Moz assumed an affronted look, saying snappily, "Okay. _Now_ it's your problem." He then pulled out his little silver flip-phone and dialed hit speed dial. "Yeah, cap. I got a local hero by the name of—"

"Okay, okay, pee boy," the officer interrupted, holding up his hands in surrender. "Get it yourself."

He held up the yellow tape and allowed the Moz inside.

"Oh, it turns out the hero is on our side," Moz said to the nonexistent person on the other end of the line. "Never mind."

* * *

—Minutes Later, Aria's POV—

"Any problems getting in?" I asked when Mozzie let me in from the kitchen's back door.

Paul Ignazio's apartment smelled of old take-out and cheap beer. The place was a tad older-looking with visible attempts to make it more modern-style. Of course, some of those attempts may have been hidden underneath piles of dirt laundry, empty take-out boxes, and other bits of assorted garbage.

"None. He thinks I'm swabbing toilets," the bald man confirmed, closing the door behind me. "I figure we've got about ten minutes until he gets curious."

I raised a brow at the given time limit. "Why? Is that the standard toilet-swabbing time?"

"Yes. That's exactly what it is."

We both split up and began searching the apartment.

"You know you look pretty comfortable in that FBI windbreaker," I commented playfully as we split up to search the apartment. I made my way over to the living room with its plush furniture and walls painted a sickly orange color. "Maybe it's time to consider a new career path."

"No. I prefer to keep my soul," the man said, still standing in the kitchen. "What are we looking for?"

"Paul convinced our homeless guy to steal a bible," I explained, looking around the book covered coffee-table. "I want to know why, I want to know who killed him, and I want to know if they're related." I looked down at the table before me. Unlike my usually immaculate shop, Paul was obviously not a neat-freak. Pizza boxes, take out cartons, and foil wrappers lay strewn about all over the place. However, there was one thing that caught my attention amid all the cluttered mess. "He was researching something," I noted. "Hundred Years' War…the Crusades…" I looked up, realizing something. "Illuminated manuscripts."

I got up and made my way over to a shelf near Paul's bed that contained several books, most of which laid on top of it. "Why is a mob guy researching medieval history?" I wondered aloud, looking at the various titles before pulling out one heavily bookmarked tome and riling through it, revealing a librarians nightmare; several pages were marked with multiple handwritten notes, underlines, and circles around certain words or names. Eventually, I closed the book and glanced at the back cover which had the usual summary of the book and a picture of the author too.

"Do you know the name Mario Fiametta?" I asked, looking at the picture.

"Doesn't ring a bell," Mozzie admitted looking at a calendar on the wall. "Who is he?"

"Art historian, Brooklyn State," I informed him, looking through the author's bio on the last few pages of the book.

"Serendipity. Paul had an appointment…at Brooklyn State."

I nodded. "I better call Burke," I said, pulling out my phone and dialing the number.

He picked up on the third ring. -{ **You find anything?** }- he immediately asked.

"Your hunch was right. Ruiz is on the wrong trail," I said, pacing a bit as Moz looked around the place some more.

-{ **And how did you learn this?** }- he asked gruffly.

"A friend," I half-lied.

-{ **The same friend who—?** }-

"Same guy," I finished glancing back at Moz. "He's real. I'm not making him up."

-{ **Oh, I know he's real.** }-

"How much do you know?" I asked, eager to find out more on Moz if I could, though I sincerely doubted that it was more than what I already knew.

-{ **Enough.** }- Burke said ominously before getting back on track. -{ **What'd you find?** }-

"A professor who writes about the black market," I said, looking at the book in my hands. "Sicilian grave robbers, Egyptian smugglers, and Serbian mobsters. I mean, you can't run with those crowds unless you're willing to get dirt under your nails."

-{ **What's her name?** }-

" _His_ name is Mario Fiametta," I said, glancing at the book in reference.

-{ **A man. A regular Indiana Jones.** }-

I made a weirded-out look though Burke couldn't see it as I tried to imagine him watching old Indiana Jones movies. Trust me, it's harder than it sounds. Anyways, the ensuing awkward silence after his statement must have been enough of an indication though.

"Do you want to go meet him?" I asked after a bit.

-{ **Yeah, I think I do.** }- he replied quickly before hanging up.

* * *

—Evening, Later—

"You gentlefolk are with the FBI?" the man asked striding into the room after we had gotten past the secretary.

He was tall, being only about the same height as Burke and had slightly tanned features and dark eyes. He had dark brown hair that was cut short but longer than Burke's cut and wore a simple work suit that was probably meant to impress clients. Now facing him in real-life, he somehow looked more womanly to me with his thin-ish brows, high cheekbones, heart-shaped face and delicate-looking nose despite his rather solid build.

"Yes. We're hoping you can help us out on this one," Burke answered while I remained silent. "We're working on a stolen bible," he explained before turning to me. "Show him."

I handed the images of our missing religious tome over to the man. "Thank you, Agent…?"

"Aria Slade-Cage."

He chortled a bit, smiling in what was supposed to be a charming way. "That's funny," he commented, looking through the photos. "There's a very talented manuscript forger _also_ named Aria Slade-Cage."

"How talented?" I smirked devilishly, pretending to preen at the talented complement.

Hearing the apparent pleasure in my voice, the man glanced back up at me and a figurative lightbulb seemed to flick on above his head as comprehension dawned on his features.

"You're her," he concluded smiling and chuckling a bit despite the fact that he technically had just met and was in the presence of a convicted felon, however alleged the charges may be. "And you're with the FBI?" he asked, gesturing to Peter.

"Ah, it's…sort of a work release," I lied, glancing at the FBI agent too and deciding to stick to my 'criminal' history story. I didn't need Burke crawling up my ass for revealing work sensitive info.

"I have to ask," Mario began, smiling shyly, "um, is it true that the Vinland map is yours?"

"How could it be?" I smiled dazzlingly, my facial muscles screaming in pain. "But if it is a forgery, it's spectacular."

"How about we get back to my current problem?" Burke hastily butted in, apparently not wanting to be ignored or caught between two people flirting. "A pre-Renaissance bible stolen from a church in Brooklyn," he prompted, handing Mario a couple images of the missing tome book.

"It's…very beautiful," the Brooklyn state professor admitted taking the pictures and examining them under some kind of fancy magnifying glass. However, while it did look like he was actually examining the images, I noticed how his eyes just merely seemed to pass over it, like he had seen it before and was merely sparing it a glance for show. "But it's not a bible."

"It's not?" Peter asked, surprised.

"Pre-Renaissance, yes, uh, but it's too small to be a Bible," he informed us.

I wanted to smack myself on the forehead.

 _Stupid Moz and his aversion to any non-wacky religion_.

Knowing him, he probably either didn't know or either knew and didn't care since he wasn't all that big on religion. Of course, I wasn't either and would have probably have done the same thing so I couldn't exactly complain.

"Then it's a book of hours," Burke surmised.

The professor tilted his head to the side and smiled a bit, though no warmth reached his eyes. "Most likely, yes. In the Italian style."

"A large prayer book," Peter explained to me, apparently seeing my slight confusion, "To show their devotion, monks and nuns had to recite the psalms, hymns, or chants at specific times all day long."

"Sunday school," I summed up, wanting to vomit at the idea; there is only so much religious stuff I can take before I get thoroughly sick of it.

Burke nodded. "Lots of Sundays."

"This is a particularly nice example," Mario added, glancing back at the pictures for a moment.

"Paul Ignazio thought so, too," Peter said, apparently wanting to broach the subject of our now dead suspect.

Mr. Fiametta looked understandably confused, though I did catch some kind of look that passed briefly through his eyes. "Sorry?" he asked, looking back up at us from the pictures.

"Do you know him?" Burke pushed.

Mario's eyes flitted about slightly as he shook his head. "No."

 _Liar_ , I thought.

"We believe he stole it," Burke informed the professor, watching his expression like I was.

"Oh, well, I hope you catch him," Mario said coolly, not looking directly at the FBI agent before him.

"Can't. He's dead," Peter informed the man as bluntly as ever. I noticed how Mario didn't even remotely seem too surprised though he did a good job of faking it as my companion continued talking. "Looks like a mob hit. But we're still hoping to figure out who took the book."

 _Nice Burke. Real smooth._

"Well I'd love to know," Mario said slightly louder than necessary. "It's quite beautiful."

Why does he keep glancing at those pictures like that? I mentally wondered, noticing how the professor would look at the pictures about every fifteen seconds or so for about five to ten seconds then focus back on us. And every time he did so, I swore that some kind of look akin to longing flickered in his gaze.

Peter smiled appreciatively at the other man's sentiments. "Here's my card," he said, offering it to the other man. "If you hear anything or come across anyone who's looking to buy or sell something like that..."

"I will call you," Mario finished in a tone that suggested that the card was going into the trash as soon as we were gone.

Burke nodded. "Thank you."

"It's a pleasure," I said watching the professor as Burke made to leave.

Mario smiled charmingly. "If you are ever in the mood to discuss medieval manuscripts…" he began, looking at me.

"Oh, you'd be surprised how often I'm in the mood for that," I flirted back before finally paying attention to Burke's unimpressed look that told me to stop and leave now.

I did, following after him, but I took note of how the professor's eyes watched me as I left.

* * *

—Next Day, Streets of New York—

Walking side by side with Mozzie through the foot traffic of the city that never sleeps, I listened as he went on and on about the device from MECH he was trying to examine and MECH's head-honcho, Silas.

I honestly caught only about maybe 2/3rds of what he was saying though. That's not to say that I wasn't interested. In fact, quite the opposite was true. I was just having trouble focusing on what he was saying because of my paranoia and claustrophobia. Most of the time, I had a firm handle on it in large crowds but sometimes I still had lapses. It always would seem like everyone was purposefully trying to invade my personal bubble of space. I knew that they weren't but it still sometimes felt like it. That didn't help my paranoia much either because when others got too close, my hands immediately jumped for either my batons, my wallet, or my phone. Not a good thing in my opinion.

"…getting rich dirt on this guy is like next to impossible. It's like trying to find water in the desert after a heatwave."

"I'm sure you'll find something Moz," I said as coolly as possible, trying to control my breathing. "You always do."

Apparently satisfied with the statement, he went on about the difficulties of turning up clues from the device. Apparently he was experiencing similar difficulties to what I had had.

Suddenly, a sharp ringing came from my pocket.

"Oh, your FBI friend keeps you on a tight leash," Moz said sniffily when he saw who it was.

"Keep looking, Moz. Something's there, okay?" I said, not wanting another headache to contend with.

He nodded and walked off, leaving me to walk to Burke's alone.

* * *

—Later, Burke's House—

"He's lying about Paul," Burke declared as we sat across from each other at the dining table, eating take out from a nearby restaurant. "And he's two degrees away from our homeless guy, but I also have trouble buying the fact that an attractive history professor offed a mobster so neatly."

Over at the front door, there was the click of the lock before an angry woman's voice reached us.

"No, you don't want me to see the missing inventory. If I come down there, there's gonna be a lot more missing than centerpieces. You got that?"

We both silently watched as a beautiful woman stormed into the nearby living room and set down a folder on the coffee table.

"Okay, maybe it's not a complete stretch," Burke admitted quietly turning back to me as the woman set her stuff down before coming over.

I nodded, a tad fearful that speaking would cause an incident.

"Hey, guys," she greeted cheerily.

Meet Elizabeth Burke: Peter's fantastic wife. While shorter than my towering height, she was definitely more beautiful than I was with lovely long hair that was the color of dark chocolate and curled perfectly as the ends, a nice bust, and an excellent figure. Not only that but she was also quite intelligent and blue eyes. Married to Peter for ten years now and working as an event planner, she was very understanding of her husband's occupation and often offers excellent advice and as well as fresh perspective into a case when Peter has trouble. No offense to Peter, but I have absolutely no idea how he scored such an amazing woman.

Anyways their marriage is pretty much perfect, and I could not think of two people better suited for each other; and that's saying something since I technically have zero dating experience under my belt.

"Hi," I greeted politely.

"Sorry. Um, it was just my vendor," she explained, laughing awkwardly.

"No, it's fine. We were just trying to decide if a man is capable of a clean murder."

"Oh, I think so," Elizabeth immediately agreed. "What's the issue?"

Peter and I looked between each other before I eventually spoke.

"I-I think we're dealing with a shell game," I said, standing up and clearing the immediate area on the table in front of me.

"Visual aids," Peter commented. "Nice."

"Big Gulp is Paul, dead mob guy"—I held up a large, empty white and red cup, before turning it upside down in front of me—"Coffee cup is Steve, our homeless vet"— I set down the much smaller cup next to the first in the exact same way—"Mug is Mario"—this time it was a black mug set in between the first two—"Napkin's the Bible"—I finished up by putting a crumpled white napkin between the mug and the big gulp cup.

"Make Mario the saltshaker," Peter demanded.

"Mario's the mug. Watch," I stated in a tone that dared him to argue. "We'll start with Paul, who for some reason reads Mario's book and realizes the Healing Bible is worth a hell of a lot of cash." Taking the overly large cup, I set it over the crumpled paper napkin. "But it's also Barelli's pride and joy." Now I was moving the cups around exactly like a game of shells. "He doesn't want to risk Barelli's wrath. So, he…"

"Gets Steve to steal the Bible," Burke and I chorused as I nudged 'the bible' under Steve's coffee cup.

"Plausible deniability," Peter said.

"But if it doesn't work, then he lets the homeless guy take the fall," Elizabeth surmised. "Well, that's evil."

"He takes the Bible from Steve, calls Mario to make the deal. Something happens," I explained, still moving the cups around.

"Yeah. The deal goes down wrong," Peter said, getting up out of his seat like I was and gripping the back of his chair as he watched the 'people' move around. "Or Paul decides he wants both the cash and the book."

"Well, whatever it is, Paul ends up dead," I said, knocking over the scarlet and white cup on the right and revealing the empty space underneath. "The Bible goes missing. Steve never even met Mario," I finished, also knocking over the white cup with the brown grip around the middle and once more revealing nothing underneath; I sat back down.

"And our guy walks away clean with a very expensive book," Peter summed up, lifting up the mug to reveal a twenty-dollar bill. "Okay, how'd you do that?"

"Never reveal your secrets," Elizabeth also smirked, sitting down at the end of the table to my right.

"Well, how do we get Mario to reveal his?" I queried.

"Well, if I stretch it, I might be able to get a warrant to get into his place," Peter said but the way he said it made it sound like getting that warrant was a very big 'if'.

"You know, if he's smart, he's not gonna have that Bible anywhere close to him," Peter's wife said.

Burke looked at his wife, smiling a bit as he teased, "El, I've never seen this devious side."

She smirked, winking at her husband. "Don't cross me."

"Elizabeth's right about the bible," I said, not wanting to be caught in the middle of two people verbally making out; I guess karma had come back to bite me in the ass. "He won't keep it close."

"I've got it," Peter smirked, looking at me. "He knew who you were. Aria Slade-Cage, master forger."

"Alleged," I corrected, not sure if I liked where this was going.

"Alleged. Whatever." Peter waved the details away. "If he's got the book, it links him to the murder. He's gonna want to get rid of it. We've got the usual channels locked down, but if he thinks you might be interested…"

"Convince him I'm pliable," I finished seriously.

Peter was now in his FBI command-mode as he said, "We find some street contacts. Float it out that old Aria Slade-Cage is back in business."

I shook my head. "No, that could take time to reach him and there's no guarantee."

"Why don't you just ask him out?" Elizabeth said suddenly, surprising us with the simple yet effective plan.

"That could work," her husband agreed. "Think he'll say yes?"

"Yes," Elizabeth immediately said at the same time I started to say, "I could probably give him a call."

Of course inwardly, I was definitely not happy with this turn of events because now I was guaranteed to be forced into a dress with makeup and heels, especially with how Elizabeth was eyeing me critically.

* * *

—Later, Night, Restaurant—

"To history, old and new," I said, clinking glasses with Mario before each of us took a sip.

As it turned out, getting Mario to go on a date with me hadn't been all that hard. When I had called him up out of the blue after my conversation with Elizabeth and Burke, he had obviously been a little shocked at first but had quickly agreed to meet up at a place of my choice.

Now we were sitting together at a small table in some swanky restaurant that I forgotten the name of. The overhead lights were dimmed considerably so as to give the scene a more 'romantic' feel as the shadows played across my 'dates' face. Of course, that may have also been also been a clever attempt to hide how horribly put together the theme of the restaurant was with its simple and cheesy crystal chandeliers, brick walls, and white, frilly and doily-like table cloths.

Meanwhile as I was placating our dear professor, Burke and the rest of the team would be planting a bug in Mario's place. All I had to do was keep our suspect occupied for a bit.

Anyways, I had indeed been correct; Elizabeth had forced me into a torture-, I mean, a _lovely_ dress and pair of heels. And while I would admit that the outfit was quite pretty, I would rather have not been the one wearing it right now. They are a bit too breezy downstairs if you know what I mean. Honestly, how do women wear these things?!

It was a short A-line dress with a black leather corset that had a semi-sweetheart neckline and had a royal blue accordion style skirt that stopped right above my kneecaps in the front but elongated toward the back, tickling the back of my calves. The straps were the interesting part though. They were also made of black leather and were about two fingers wide. However, hanging off one side of the left shoulder, a few stings of fake diamonds draped over it. On the left side, a black chiffon angel wing draped over my right arm, effectively covering my bandaged covered bicep, which I refused to take off despite Elizabeth's rather vehement protests.

If being put in a dress wasn't bad enough, Elizabeth had strapped me into a chair before the 'date' and coated my face in this horrid glittery eyeshadow and thick black eyeliner that I knew I would have a time getting off later.

Finally, to add insult to injury, or possible literal injury in my case, Elizabeth had stolen my usual shoes and had left me no choice but to wear these painful black heels or go barefoot. Thank god they weren't that high.

"How does an FBI agent get a table here?" Mario asked inquisitively. "It's, like, a six month wait."

"Oh, an FBI agent doesn't," I smirked, trying not to grimace at the pain I felt in my face. "Don't forget, I had a previous life."

"Oh, yeah," he smirked back before asking, "Do you believe in reincarnation?"

Thinking on it, I cocked my head to the side slightly. "You could say that. How about you? Who were you in your previous life?"

"Same person I've always been…with '90s hair," he said causing us both to laugh a little at the bad joke and amusing mental image that was conjured.

"I doubt that. Let me see your lifeline," I said holding out my hand for his.

Mario shook his head though there was an amused light in his dark eyes. "No."

"Come on," I encouraged with a playful tone. "It'll help fill in the blanks."

He snorted. "You're not seriously gonna read my palm right now, are you?" he asked incredulously, though his smile never wavered as he held out his hand anyway.

I looked at his hand critically, letting myself take my time as I took in the details. "Oh, calluses," I commented, looking up at him. "Not afraid to get dirty."

It was a bit of a sly, underhanded jab on my part, but I didn't make it blatantly obvious, acting for all the world as if the statement hand no meaning at all. After all, I didn't want to make this too easy for him. If I did, he would get suspicious.

"Well, that's true," he agreed ominously making it seem like there was a double meaning to that statement. "What else?"

"No ring," I also noted. "Between that and the calluses, I'm guessing work gets in the way."

"No ring for you either," he retorted in an accusing yet playful tone.

"Yeah. Big Brother got in the way."

"So it must be weird for you working for the FBI," he said sympathetically as if he understood what I was going through.

 _Yeah right._

"I don't know," I mused thoughtfully. "It's always interesting to read from the other team's playbook."

"'The other team'? I thought you were out of the game," he stated picking up on my little hint there.

"Oh, I am. Retired and rehabilitated," I confirmed, knowingly baiting him but still letting Mario make the move. I wanted him to make the decision on his own so that when it came down to it, he would think that it was all his idea, not mine. It wouldn't do for him to become alert to my actions immediately after he started digging around.

"Have you found your missing bible?" Mario hedged seeming politely curious.

"Not yet," I replied before shooting back, "You know anyone who wants to buy one?"

"Maybe. Looters approach me all the time," he admitted, shrugging a bit. "So do buyers. It's…a very _attractive_ offer."

"It sure is."

* * *

—FBI Van, FBI POV—

"Judge Rattigan faxed the warrant," Lauren informed Peter, papers in hand.

"Excellent. All right, Aria's got orders to keep him away from his home for at least an hour," he informed the van at large. "Can you bypass the alarm?"

Lauren nodded. "Two minutes."

Peter clapped his hands together. "Let's do it."

* * *

—Restaurant, Aria's POV—

To anyone else observing our conversation, it would have seemed like we were a simple young couple enjoying the night out or possibly two good friends having a little get-together. But I knew better. Ever since this dinner began, Mario and I had been playing a dangerous game, dancing about each other as we each dropped subtle hints but watching the other like a hawk to see who would crack first.

"Surprise me," Mario said, offering the menu to me in a playful manner.

"Oh, you sure?" I teased, accepting it. "I might order something you don't like and then where will we be?"

"I trust you," the professor said, though I knew he was lying. "After all, you work for the FBI."

For a moment there, I just sat, observing Mario before asking carefully, "More wine?"

"Now you read minds?" the man asked amusedly, also watching me and no doubt taking in the fact that I had not confirmed that I worked with the FBI.

I had him right where I wanted him.

Leaning in, I asked quietly, "The question is, do you?"

* * *

—Mario's Flat, Jones and Lauren's POV—

"It's not bad for a college professor, huh?" FBI agent Clinton Jones asked his partner, Lauren, as they walked into the roomy flat, using flashlights to see where they were going in the otherwise dark room.

"Yeah, well, she's either a crook or a trust fund baby," Lauren said dryly.

The dark-skinned man snorted. "Tch. Yeah, maybe it's both."

Lauren rolled her onyx eyes. "Ha. They usually are," she said, catching a weird-looking cup full of pens, pencils, and other utensils in the nick of time as she accidentally ran into a desk and knocked the vase over.

Unknowingly, both she and Jones breathed a sigh of relief at the same time. It would not have been good if their sneaky professor came home and found the pencil holder cracked, broken and mysteriously lying on the floor.

"Nice catch," Jones commented a tad shakily as the female agent carefully righted the vase.

"And not a bad place to drop the bug either," Lauren admitted, considering the object carefully before going to her bag and pulling out the little device.

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah. That's good coverage. Let's do it," the man agreed, coming over to help as his phone chirped from an incoming text message. Pulling it out and reading over the message, Jones couldn't help but huff a little in exasperated amusement.

 **Title: Subject Enroute**

 _ **He invited her back to his apartment. You have ten minutes to plant bug and get out.**_ —Burke

"Wow. He's bringing her back here for dessert," he commented aloud for his partners benefit.

Again Lauren rolled her eyes. "Of course he is."

"Oh, you jealous you ain't getting any of it?" Jones teased.

"Aria?" she scoffed, shaking her head as she stuffed the last of the gear back in her bag and made her way out with Jones tailing behind her. "No. I'm perfectly fine with the stale ass coffee I have in the van, thank you."

* * *

—FBI Van—

"We good?" Burke asked when they tromped back into the van, not looking up from the computer screen in from of him.

"Yeah, we're good," Jones confirmed, sidling past the back of Peter's chair to get to his own seat.

"Careful, Lauren. Don't spill that stale ass coffee," Peter said as the other agent set her bag down, his words earning him a look. "It's a bug. I can hear," he said simply, earning a snicker from Jones and listening as the sound of a door opening reached their ears from the speakers. "They're home. Roll tape."

* * *

—Mario's Flat, Aria's POV—

"After you," I said, letting Mario lead the way into his home.

"Some wine?" the man asked, turning on some lights as he made his way through the living room turned work office.

I shrugged noncommittally as Mario grabbed two crystal glasses and made his way over to a mostly uncluttered countertop. "Why not?"

"So, what shall we talk about?" the man asked flirtatiously, uncorking the bottle.

Gladly, I pounced upon the opening he had given me. "There's this story about these two spies," I began cautiously, making sure that I had his attention as I continued on. "A French duke and an Italian count." Watching him carefully from behind, I noticed how Mario seemed to freeze for a moment when his gaze fell upon an oddly shaped, wooden vase. It looked as if it had been moved recently since the slight layer of dust around the vase was a little off-center, a little tongue of dustless surface peering out from underneath the bottom of the vase. Dammit!

"They're sworn enemies," I continued, acting as if I hadn't noticed his little pause as I looked around the spacious flat. "Who spent the whole year trying to trick each other. But on New Year's Eve, they got to ask one question the other had to answer truthfully."

"Yes," Mario agreed a little stiffly, catching on as he slowly turned to me. "The trick was asking the right question because you may never get another chance."

"I've always said honesty is a more challenging game," I riddled out.

* * *

—Van, FBI POV—

"'Honesty is a more challenging game'?" Jones scoffed, hearing Aria's words. "Jeez, how come my dates don't go like this?"

"Because you don't say things like, 'Honesty is a more challenging game'," Peter told him bluntly.

"It's because nobody actually talks like that," Lauren stated with equal bluntness, also adding in her two-cents.

"They do in Aria Slade-Cage's world," Burke commented dryly, causing them all to smirk a little.

* * *

—Mario's Flat, Aria's POV—

"This wine needs to breathe a little," Mario said to me suddenly. "I'm gonna get a decanter. Why don't you put some music on?" he said as he left the room, the wine bottle in hand.

"What are you in the mood for?" I called, watching him go.

"Oh, you know," he called back vaguely.

"Surprise you," I surmised.

 _Very helpful_ , I thought sarcastically, looking about the room. It was then that out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a little red light winking at me from a fixed spot on the ceiling.

 _Security cameras. Shit_.

Knowing that I had little time left to cover for myself, I saw behind me a perfectly angled mirror hanging in the hall that Mario had disappeared down. _Perfect_.

Calmly, I pulled out a small, handheld mirror and made it look like I was checking my make-up in it when I was really using it to spy on my quarry. Managing to find the right angle, I saw Mario was standing in another room, watching what looked like a security feed from a desktop computer. The backwards time stamp in the reflection said that it was shot at least half-an hour earlier, around the time that Burke's crew had planted the bug. _Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! This was not good_.

Snapping the mirror closed and tucking it away, I searched around for some kind of music player trying to not act suspicious. Thankfully, it didn't take me long before I found an old fashioned record-player with some black record albums nearby. As far as Mario's music collection went, it actually wasn't that half bad. I took my time in choosing a record before putting it in. I was going to have to be careful where I stepped next.

* * *

—Later—

"Ten years painting the same Bible," I said in slight awe, looking through a book on the mantle that Mario had shown me. "It's like stalking God."

"If it weren't for the monks' devotion we would've lost one of the most significant works of Greek literature forever," Mario said.

Throughout, the rest of the night, Mario had acted normal but still cautious around me, like he was unsure if I was trustworthy or not.

"It's stunning," I commented lowly, though I wasn't really concerned with the book before me.

"I agree," the professor whispered in my ear, pressing our chests together as he violated my personal bubble. "You know what?" he murmured, his lips inches from mine like he was going to kiss me. "I don't trust you."

And there it was. I had expecting this outcome all night and here it was.

"Smart," I whispered back. "I wouldn't trust me either."

* * *

—Van, FBI POV—

"I think we have a technical problem," Lauren said, when the feed from the bug suddenly went silent.

But Burke had a pretty good idea what was going on in the nearby flat and it wasn't technical issues. "That's one way of putting it."

* * *

—Mario's Flat, Aria's POV—

Our lips were dangerously close now and I had to forcefully restrain myself from pulling away in disgust. But I knew, I Mario so much as kissed me, it would be all over.

"Let's play the spies' game," Mario breathed against my lips. "I'll ask you a question."

"And I have to tell you the truth?" I finished.

"And you have to tell me the truth," the dark-haired man agreed.

"Okay," I nodded slowly. "Make it a good one."

"Which Aria Slade are you? Are you working for the good guys or are you working a bigger game?"

This was it, this was the make or break moment.

Stepping around Mario, I went over to the vase and easily pulled out the little black bug, showing it to the man before taking it and dropping it into my wine-filled glass. It wasn't that great of a wine either.

* * *

—Van, FBI POV—

As soon as the line went dead, everyone seemed to be sent into a bit of a silent tizzy the three of them looking unsurely at each other.

"What happened?" Lauren finally asked, eyes wide.

"Aria happened," Burke hissed under his breath as he stared blankly at the monitor before him. On the outside, he appeared to be in slight shock. On the inside though, he was filled with equal parts triumph and equal parts dread.

* * *

—Mario's Flat, Aria's POV—

"Did I answer your question?" I asked Mario.

"Maybe," the man admitted, still obviously wary but still warming up to me all the same.

Deciding to hammer in the final nail, I spilled what I knew to him. "The feds linked Barelli's Bible to Paul Ignazio and you to Paul through his visits to the college," I explained, the man's resulting silence speaking for itself as he thought about what I was saying. "Look, Mario, I'm living proof; if the feds want something from you they'll turn your life inside out to get it. They'll tell Barelli you have his book."

Judging by his conflicted expression, I knew that I almost had him.

"Even if I don't?" Mario asked carefully.

I took his much larger hand and put it on the table before us and sharing a meaningful look with him that said 'I know you do.'

"I can get you 250,000 in two days," I said without pause. I needed to appear confident and sure that I could get him that much and that short span of time.

Mario shook his head. "It is worth a lot more than that."

"Not if you're in prison or dead," I deadpanned, stressing that last word. "Between the FBI and the mob, there's no way you can move it. I can."

"The other team's playbook," the dark-eyed professor mused, watching me. "If I shouldn't risk it, why are you? Won't they send you back for good?"

Lifting up the skirt of my dress a bit, I showed him my false anklet that hugged my left ankle, the green light on it glowing a bit in an almost menacing way. "I'm already in prison," I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion. "We have a deal?"

Our game of danger and deception complete, Mario and I both shared a wicked smirk.

* * *

—Next Day, FBI HQ, Burke's POV—

"How did you know she was in on it?" Hughes asked him as they stepped off the elevator, ferret-faced Ruiz in tow.

Peter smirked knowingly, loving it as he watched Ruiz twitched slightly with his irritation. "Lucky hunch," Burke replied, watching as the dark-haired man's knuckles turned white.

Hughes hummed, turning to look briefly at their third companion. "Ruiz?" he asked, looking for confirmation as they walked through the desk-filled area.

"I checked Paul's credit," the man said. "He got wired 10 G's from a shell corporation in Gibraltar owned by your professor."

"Oh, by the way," Hughes began when a thought occurred to him. "How did last night's fishing go? Get any tape?"

"Equipment failure," Burke lied with a slight sigh as they trod upstairs to Hughes' office. "But Slade says he has the book. He'll sell, but only to her."

Hughes scoffed, knowing the girl's personality. "Of course she'd say that. The terms?"

"Two-fifty, wired to a Swiss account," Peter said.

Immediately Ruiz jumped in, shaking his head vehemently. "No way. What if she cuts a deal with him? She runs away with the book."

"What choice do we have?" Burke countered.

"We don't," Hughes interrupted before either one of them could start throwing more than lethal glares. "I don't need another dead body washing up in the East River. We'll set up a dummy account."

Peter frowned. "That's risky. What if he takes a shot at Aria?"

"I wouldn't lose any sleep over it," Ruiz immediately stated, much to Burke's ire.

As if she had been magically summoned, Aria appeared next to them wearing that annoying fedora as she said cheerily, "Morning, guys. Everybody sleep okay?"

* * *

—Later, Aria's POV—

"Cayman's First National," Peter explained, once we were in his office. "I'll e-mail you the PIN right before the buy."

Getting up from his desk, he handed me the phone I was going to use during the op. However, it didn't take a genius to know that Peter was worried. You could see all the signs in his eyes and movements. He knew how risky it was sending me in without any protection, but there wasn't anything either of us could do about it; I decided it was better to not comment.

"First they're all for sending me to prison for crimes I didn't commit," I joke. "Tomorrow they give me a quarter million taxpayer dollars in an offshore account. Guess that shows how much confidence they have in you."

"And how much I have in you," Peter said with a look that said 'don't screw this up.'

I smirked. "Awe how sweet, you really do care, Pete."

* * *

—Later, Van, FBI POV—

"Look at her. Son of a bitch should be in leg-irons, you ask me," Ruiz complained, his voice alone grating on everybody's nerves as they watched Aria through the video feed.

The plan was set and everything was in place. All that was left to do now was wait for Mario to show up and the deal to go down before they could arrest the professor. Unfortunately, it also meant that everyone else was stuck with listening to Ruiz complain loudly about Aria in the meantime.

"Nobody asked you, Ruiz," Burke snapped, a warning in his tone while everyone else in the van, besides Ruiz, silently cheered Peter on.

"She conned you too, Pete, huh?" Ruiz retorted, not understanding the hint to shut up.

Thankfully, they were saved from any further argument when Lauren said, "Here he comes."

* * *

—Meeting place, Aria's POV—

"Hey," Mario greeted, strolling casually down the steps that led to his flat and walking over to me. We both embraced though there was no real affection in the gesture as I leaned in close to his ear and whispered, "We have a chaperone. White van over my left shoulder."

Mario moved us around so that he could get a better look at our 'stalkers'. However, every time he touched my skin, I had to battle down the urge to recoil. Gods this was what I hated the most about ops like these.

And you know what the worst part was? I had to let him touch me as part of the terms of our agreement to meet up. And cute and probably hot this looked to other people as we sensually patted each other down, I just wanted to soak in a bath of bleach for the next decade and never come up for air unless it was by necessity.

* * *

—Van, FBI POV—

"What happened to not mixing business with pleasure?" Lauren asked, bemused, watching the couple with a kind of horrified fascination.

"That's for us," Burke explained exasperatedly, accustomed to Aria's antics by now as he watched the feed too. "She's patting him down."

"I need a cigarette after that pat down," Ruiz muttered but no one paid him any mind.

* * *

—Meeting place, Aria's POV—

"You're clean," I said when I was done, pulling away from a quickly as possible.

"Thank you," Mario said with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he pulled me in and started placing false kisses on my neck and collarbone. "Your turn."

 _Oh Heaven and Hell, help me_.

* * *

—Van, FBI POV—

"Well, what is that? He making sure that's not a gun in her pocket?" Lauren commented though no one replied as they watched the couple more or less feel each other up.

* * *

—Meeting place, Aria's POV—

"No bugs," Mario smirked when he was done, pulling away.

Luckily for me—I guess—he had merely brought out a small little device that scanned for bugs, tracker and other spy-satellite equipment. All he had needed to do was wave it over certain parts of my body and it would make a noise if it picked up something. Of course, being the asshole he turned out to be, he took much longer than was really necessary. "So where's my money?"

"Where's my book?" I retorted. After that little show, I wasn't gonna let him have it easy.

Mario chuckled, pressing out bodies together and acting like we were some lovey dovey couple or something. Anyways, like with all the guys that had ever tried holding me like thing, I could not suppress the feeling that this was so wrong. I did not belong in this guy's arms and I wanted out. And was he…? Yes, yes he was.

In response he raised his car keys and clicked a button, earning a barking chirp from the small red vehicle as all the doors unlocked.

"You ready?" Mario breathed in my ear lustily, sending the not-so-good kind of chills down my spine though the professor interpreted it as otherwise.

Nodding, I moved away from him, glad to be free of his arms.

"When I cut the anklet, our friends are gonna know I'm running," I said, making sure that Mario wasn't going to hesitate. "Can you lose them? 'Cause I'm not going back in."

Mario smirked cockily. "I've been chased by the Carabinieri, drug cartels in Bogotá—"

"I get it," I interrupted, not wanting to listen to the whole spiel. "You're good."

Reaching down, I pulled out a small knife from a space in my boots and cut the anklet in one swipe as Mario made for the driver's side.

"With all due respect, Aria we could make quite a fine pair," the professor said flirtatiously as I dumped the frantically beeping anklet on a sunny patch of sidewalk and made my way over to the passenger's side of the car.

"With all due respect, Mario, shut up and drive," I said, slightly snappishly as I got in, Mario mimicking my movements before putting the keys in the ignition and driving off.

* * *

—Van, FBI POV—

"She cut the tracker," Ruiz stated stupidly upon hearing the frantic beeps that could only mean one thing.

"Right on schedule," Burke said, completely unsurprised.

Ruiz immediately turned on him, his tone accusing. "You knew about this?"

Burke didn't even so much as flinch. "Of course. She had to convince him she's rigging the system."

"What if she really is?" Ruiz said.

"There are a dozen unmarked in the area," Burke reasoned. "NYPD has eyes in the sky. There's nowhere to hide. Let's go!" he called to the driver.

 _Besides_ , he thought inwardly, smiling mentally. _I have faith that Aria will do the right thing_ , he thought, thinking back to the conversation he had had with his wife that morning.

—Flashback—

"Hey, did you find the Bible?" his beloved wife asked him earlier that morning before he went to work.

"Yeah. The professor had it," Peter said as he tried to tie his 'lucky' tie as it was called. "Aria's gonna buy it back."

Elizabeth looked up from her typing. "You're giving her money, wow. No wonder. Lucky tie."

Peter shook his head. "No way. We set up a fake wire transfer."

Elizabeth stopped what she was doing at the dining room table and now gave him a knowing look. "Then what are you worried about?"

Peter sighed from the living room. "She has to convince him that she's working us, which means she has to cut her anklet for real." Tightening his tie he walked over. "The book's worth a fortune. She could run with it."

Elizabeth got up and walked over, her dark tresses swaying with the motion. "Well, you have a lot more faith in a ratty old tie than you do Aria," she said, tightening his tie for him.

"Yeah, well, this ratty old tie has never forged a priceless map of Vinland."

"Why is it so hard for you to believe that she'll do the right thing?" Elizabeth suddenly asked looking him directly in the eyes.

"Let's just say that's not her first instinct."

"And trust isn't yours," El pointed out, sharp as usual.

Peter shrugged, smiling a bit. "Occupational hazard. I like to know I can count on something."

"I know you do," his wife said softly. "But sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith."

And with that, she kissed him on the lips before going back to her work and leaving him to think on what she said.

—End Flashback—

* * *

—Aria's POV—

After some wild driving and very close calls, we pulled to a stop at an abandoned dock area somewhere in Brooklyn and parked. It wasn't much to see except, city skyline, lots of gravel, smelly water, and rusting metal pieces left to the mercy of the elements.

"I can't believe I'm doing this. I spent a long time looking for her," Mario said sounding almost angry, as we got out and headed for the trunk where he undoubtedly kept the bible.

"I guess it wasn't meant to be," I said simply not wanting to incite violence until I got the bible. Slowly and carefully, Mario pulled the bible out of its heavy-duty case from the trunk and let me take a look at it, my hands covered with white latex gloves so I wouldn't damage the bible or smudge its artwork. Masterfully, I held the old tome with care, flipping through its pages and looking at the artwork for any signs of forgery. "It's calfskin vellum," I said, holding the book close to my nose and catching a whiff of that distinct smell before pulling back and thumbing through more pages. "The abyssus perfidia…Golden chalice of Paul…"

"You satisfied?" Mario asked hands reaching into a red bag that lay in the trunk. It looked as though it contained clothes but I kept a wary eye on him.

"Very," I said, nodding and closing the book. Taking out the cell phone Burke had given me, I typed in the correct number sequence that would allow me to send Mario his money. "Sending. It's on its way."

"And here it is," Mario said, once his phone gave off a little ping. "Thank you very much."

 _And now here comes the double cross/backstab moment._

"It's a pleasure doing business with you," I smiled emotionlessly.

Mario whipped out a small hand gun and immediately aimed it at my face. "You'll never know how much pleasure it could have been."

 _Called it_.

"You know, I had a feeling all that lovey-dovey stuff last night was BS," I said, completely dropping my false façade as I leaned against the trunk of the red car.

"Next time, you should trust your instincts," the dark-haired man before me smirked triumphantly.

"Oh, oh, I did," I said, plunging a hand into my pocket and pulling out a full clip of bullets as I wore my own smirk of accomplishment. "Clip. Lifted it when I patted you down," I said shaking it and causing the bullets inside to rattle loudly.

"You forgot about the one in the chamber," the dark-eyed man said, never losing his own triumphant smirk.

"Damn it," I cursed, my expression dropping, "I've never been a gun gal."

"Give me the book, Aria," Mario commanded.

"Sorry. If you're gonna take me on, it's gonna cost you a small fortune," I said unapologetically, holding the bible in front of my chest like a shield and causing the man to falter a bit. Noticing that, my lips spread in a wolfish grin. "What's the matter? You can't do it? Is it 'cause of the money or the history?"

"You know the answer to that," Mario growled, readjusting his grip on the gun so that he had both hands on it to steady his aim.

"Is that why you killed Paul?" I said, stalling.

"Paul wanted the money and the book," Mario snapped angrily.

"Yeah, that's what happens when you get greedy," I said before I could stop myself.

 _BANG!_

I felt as my entire frame was hit with a sudden force, knocking me over with the unexpected blast, and completely winding me as the bible was smacked forcefully into my chest. Briefly my vision darkened a bit as I dimly registered my head hitting the sandy earth as well as a couple rocks, and my hearing faltered though I knew that Burke and company had arrived on the scene.

From somewhere nearby and over the din around us, I could hear snatches of Peter yelling at Mario as my hearing kept cutting in and out in my daze. "Drop…gun! Gun down…we shoot. Put…down! Right now…down…hands behind…head…Man down. Man down!"

Through closed eyelids, I saw a shadow looming over me. Coughing and groaning a bit from being abruptly knocked over, I opened my eyes a bit to see Burke looking over me worriedly. "Cut it a little close there, pal," I grumbled playfully with a smirk, carefully sitting up, though my ribs complained a bit.

"Guess the big guy had your back, huh?" Burke said in a relieved tone, helping me up and gesturing bodily at the bullet now embedded in the bible. Looking around a still a little dazedly, I allowed another rather familiar-looking agent to take the bible out of my hands as Burke turned his back on me briefly, glancing around at the scene as he talked. "Well, I'll tell you one thing. You made Lauren's day," he said, gesturing to the smirking female agent who was handcuffing our crook.

"Yeah, not Barelli," I said after dusting myself off and gesturing to the man in question who had almost magically appeared on the scene with a couple of his cronies in tow as they stepped out of a black van.

"How did you and your cub scouts find out about this? NYPD?" Burke asked Barelli warily as we walked up.

"I got one of those police scanners," the mob baron said before adding quickly, "It's a hobby."

We all stopped to watch as our professor was escorted past by a couple agents and officers to a waiting cop cruiser.

 _Sucker_.

"He's Paulie's shooter?" Barelli asked curiously getting a small nod from Burke. "Some kind of lover's quarrel?"

Quietly I snorted in disgust. _Ew, just, no, ew, bad mental image._

Okay, let me make myself clear, I am in no way against gays or lesbians or anything but after meeting Mario, it was pretty hard to imagine that him like that; he definitely did not strike me as that type of guy that flirts with anything that can walk on two legs.

"Just business," Burke said with a slightly more weirded-out look than I had. "I hate to break it to you, but your nephew decided to freelance behind your back."

"Oh, it's sad, you know? If you can't trust family, who can you trust?" Ruiz said with obvious false sympathy to which all present ignored him.

I looked away from them as rolled my eyes and shook my head slightly. _Just shut up Ruiz._

"So if you guys are done, I'd like my Bible back. Mass starts in one hour," Barelli said a little impatiently, tapping the simple, black and white timepiece on his left wrist.

"Would it kill you to say thank you, huh? Would it?" Burke asked rhetorically. "Yeah, I guess it would. All right, just give it to him," he said to me in a tone that plainly read that he wanted Barelli out of here as soon as possible.

"What?" I asked dumbly, acting innocently confused.

"What do you mean, 'what?'? Give him the Bible," the FBI agent said snappishly.

"I gave it to some FBI guy," I told him in a 'I am innocent of whatever you may think I have done' tone of voice, and I basically was. Mostly.

"'Some FBI guy?'" Burke repeated incredulously.

"You think you can get over on me?" the balding mob baron growled, getting up in my face and trying to act intimidating. It might've even worked except I was several inches taller than him and I'd had some experience in dealing with mob barons before. "You'll wish you were never born, pal."

"Yeah, I seem to be getting this speech a lot lately," I said boredly.

Surprisingly, it was Ruiz that spoke up in my defense but that may just have been his need to impress his 'dominance' on another alpha-male like Barelli. "Hey. Just shut up, Barelli," he snapped.

"No way," the mob baron snapped back. "This ain't over."

"Where is it, Slade?" Ruiz demanded in a stern voice that I'm sure would've had first-graders spilling their guts to him in an instant. Note sarcasm. "I'll let Barelli give you a ride home."

"Look, I'm telling you guys, I don't know," I claimed, holding my hands up in surrender though all really just wanted to tell both Barelli and Ruiz to fuck off.

Cue lightbulb flicking on above Peter Burke's head, our savior of the day. "Oh. I know where it is," he said.

* * *

—Later, Church—

"Hey, pally. What are you doing with my Bible?" Barelli demanded when we strolled into the church and saw Steve, our homeless guy from earlier, sitting on some steps with the bible in his lap. Lucy was there too, resting her head on the bible in her master's lap as Steve stroked her head affectionately.

"She would've died without it if I—" Steve began, handing the book back, before being rudely interrupted by the irate mob baron.

"Not so fast, wacko," he said as Steve made to get up. "You know who you're messing with?"

"You've got it, Barelli," Burke said, intervening. "Just leave him alone."

"No, I'm not gonna let this go," the man said before his attention was drawn downwards by a tentative lick to his hand, courtesy of the sweetheart known as Lucy. Like butter before a hot knife, the stern look on the mob baron's face quickly melted as he let the lab mix lick his hand before carefully reaching out and stroking the chocolate lab mix. "Hey. Hey, sweet girl," he said softly, chuckling a bit.

"Her name's Lucy," Steve said quietly.

"Lucky Lucy," Barelli smirked, kneeling down before he noticed the unhealthy look about the sweet dog. "She don't look so good. What's the matter with her?" he asked the retired vet.

"She's been sick…until today."

Barelli seemed to consider something before saying slowly, "I got this vet in Yonkers. He saved my pugs from diabetes. Wanna take a ride, go see him, have her checked out?"

Steve glanced at Peter and I as we gave him similar looks that said 'go for it.'

The homeless man smiled, hope in his eyes as he looked up at Barelli and said, "Okay."

Silently, we watched as the odd trio got up and left the church, both of us happy to have helped out a bit.

"I was gonna give it back after…" I began, noticing the look Peter was giving me.

"I know."

"How'd you know?" I finally asked as we walked towards the front doors.

"Okay, I didn't know," my supervisor admitted. "But I took a leap of faith that you'd do the right thing."

"Elizabeth." It wasn't a question because there was only one person I knew that could effectively part words of wisdom like that that would stick with Peter like that.

With a small smile, the older man nodded, no doubt impressed as usual about how right his wife always was about certain things. "Yeah."

Deciding that I was not in the mood for more awkward silence I eventually said, "I told you it's a healing Bible."

"Oh, here we go," Peter sighed good-naturedly. "No way. Barelli's a softy for dogs," he said gesturing to the trio as Barelli handed the bible to D'Allesio saying something to the holy man before he left, no doubt to call a cab or something, before kneeling down and ruffling Lucy's dark coat fondly.

"Oh, not enough smiting and lightning for you?" I prodded, remembering his previous words.

"That's not a miracle," he insisted watching as the three then left the church.

"Come on."

"It's not a parting of the Red Sea," Burke stubbornly insisted.

"Well, I'll take my miracles where I can get them," I said.

Looking around, I watched as Peter's gaze fell upon his 'missing' FBI windbreaker, which lay innocently among the church pews. "Hey, is that my jacket?"

I smirked mysteriously. "He works in mysterious ways."

And with that, I strode out of the church. Ready to go home.

But just before I reached the door a familiar buzz from my back pocket drew my attention. Pulling out my phone, I glanced at the screen and couldn't help the true smile that played at the corner of my lips when I read the message.

 _ **Hope you are well and will come back soon.**_ —Optimus Prime

Typing in my reply, I then closed the device and strolled out of the church and into the sunlight. This little trip hand been interesting to say the least and now that it was over, for some reason I couldn't help but think of a short but simple proverb that I had learned once when I was a little girl, back when I was still quite young and ignorantly impressionable. I don't know why I thought of it now but now that I did I couldn't help but find it quite fitting now that I had.

It went something like this:

"A friend loves at all times." Proverb 17:17.

It was always rather short, but I remember finding it sweet and two the point. Maybe I was a little naive to consider Optimus a friend just yet, but now that I looked back on it, I knew that somehow Prime was gradually making his way there his way there. And now that I had been away from him for a little while, I actually realized how much I missed his company.

Anyways with that realization in mind, I headed for home.

 _ **Heading home now. See you soon, Prime.**_ —Aria

 _ **Looking forward to it.**_ —Optimus Prime

* * *

And there it is! Finally! I have been wanting to get this posted for ages.

Anyways, please feed the review monster and CHECK OUT MY POLLS!

I cannot wait for the next chapter! But that's all I will tell you.

You lot know the drill. Plz and thx.


	15. The Cracking Mask

WhiteWolf815: Finally! The chapter I have been waiting for! Seriously I had so much fun writing this you would not believe—

* _Clang_ *

WhiteWolf815: *yelps* Ouch! What the frag Ratchet?!

Ratchet: Don't get snippy with me youngling! Quit yapping and get on with the story!

WhiteWolf815: *rolls eyes* Yeah, yeah, cranky old bot. I was getting there.

Aria: Then why aren't you?

WhiteWolf815: (O.o) O-oh…Aria…You're *gulps* here.

Aria: (:|) Yeah so? Now get on with it dammit!…Or do I need to _encourage_ you?

WhiteWolf815: *salutes* N-no ma'am! I-I'll g-get r-r-right on-n it ma'am!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime.

* * *

 **Chapter 15: The Cracking Mask**

When I got back to my shop, the last thing I expected was a welcoming committee. Mind you, said 'committee' only consisted of one bot in his vehicle mode, but I was still pleasantly surprised.

"Jeez, Prime," I greeted in a dry tone when my taxi cab pulled away. "I had no idea that you missed me that much. How long have you been here?"

"Not very long," was his vague reply as I sauntered up, grinning like a shark.

"Uh-huh."

Even with his rather deep voice, his reply had sounded almost embarrassed when he had said that. Sure, to someone who barely knew the Prime, he seemed as calm as a cucumber like he always was, but I knew better. Thanks to the long hours I had spent hanging out at base with him, I had learned to notice the subtle changes in his demeanor and voice when he spoke. And right now, he definitely seemed a little flustered, judging by how his voice had gotten slightly quieter and his large frame had tensed microscopically.

If anything, I found this new revelation rather amusing. It was always intriguing to see what reactions I would get out of my guardian when I said or did certain things, even as miniscule as they were.

"So how's Ratchet?" I asked him carefully, trying to seem nonchalant as I leaned against the left side of his hood.

The warm metal underneath me vibrated a bit. "I do not believe that he was as amused as you were by your little 'gift'."

The original shark-like grin now morphed to resemble that of the Cheshire cat's as a pair of grey orbs danced with a gleeful light. "So I'm guessing that I'm not allowed anywhere near his medbay in the near future then?"

"No, I do not think so," he said with slight amusement now coloring his tone too.

I snorted in amusement but didn't say anything after that.

Silence settled between us, but I had a feeling that it wasn't going to last for very long. Already, I could practically hear the inevitable next few words Optimus was say.

"Aria, where did you go?"

And there it was: that simple yet devastating question.

Causing a few lose strands of my long blonde hair to go flying, I sighed, getting a serious sense of déjà vu as I said lowly, "Never you mind."

Thankfully, Optimus did not pursue the subject, which I greatly appreciated, though I could still sense his curiosity. But that was Optimus for you, I guess. A big and slightly intimidating leader he may have been with a kind heart (or spark if you prefer) and an open mind but there was always this hidden side to him that was full of curiosity and only overshadowed by his unending concern for others. He would not push the issue unless it put others in danger in some way.

And I prayed that that day would never come.

* * *

—Later—

 _Dammit! What am I doing? How could I let myself do that?!_ I cursed myself inwardly after I had closed the shop door behind me.

After talking for a few more minutes, Optimus had been forced to leave on the account of receiving a message that the Autobots needed him for something or whatever, or so I had been told. After bidding me a polite farewell, the big red-and-blue bot had taken his leave, speeding off into the dark until even the rumble of his engine had been lost.

"Damn it ta 'ell, Aria," I swore aloud, old accent leaking into my voice as I leaned against the door, bonking the back of my cranium against it on purpose and causing it to rattle a bit. "You stupeed idiot! Wat were you thinking?!"

Not even caring if I messed up my clothes on the grease-stained ground, I let myself slide down until I was sitting on the cold concrete floor with my legs carelessly spread out and my back pressed against the door. In fact, I didn't even give a damn that I had just thrown the bag (with my incredibly important info from Moz) to some random corner of my mechanics shop.

I didn't care because I was too frustrated with myself at the moment.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid! What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I letting him in like that? I shouldn't, no, I_ can't _afford to place my trust in him like that._ I took a deep, calming breath, closing my eyes as I relaxed my body a bit. _It's for his sake as well as my own._

Once again, small phantom pains sprung up all over my body. It was so faint that I could have merely imagined them, but they were still present all the same as if to remind me that they will always be there. The worst of these 'ghosts' however, were the old pains that came from the scars that ran across my face and my mutilated bicep. Nothing could compare to the pain of receiving those except the heart wrenching betrayal of trust that had accompanied those unpleasant experiences.

It had taught me to never place my trust so blindly in other beings beside myself. That realization had also been what had lead me into mechanics. Only things built by your own hand can be trusted not to turn around and stab you in the back.

Which leads me back to my point, I should not be becoming so open with Optimus like I am. Doing so was extremely dangerous; getting close to anyone was dangerous. I could not, _I would not_ , make the same mistakes again. I had made a promise to myself, and I fully intended to uphold it.

Sighing, I closed my eyes and mentally went over the words that had become a sort of a poem over time and a calming mantra to me:

 _Wear thy mask like it is your life._

 _Emotions are a hindrance,_

 _Merely a smaller hurdle in the larger game of life._

 _Fear is thy enemy,_

 _Do not fall into its embrace._

 _Anger, while strong and passionate, is unfocused and unstable like a blunt blade._

 _Shame, sadness, greed and guilt are unnecessary weight,_

 _Do not burden yourself with that foolishness._

 _Happiness and trust are unguarded;_

 _Never form true attachments,_

 _Those shackles that will weaken your resolve._

 _Cast aside all personal feelings and_

 _Hone your mind for it is your greatest weapon._

 _Pain is meaningless,_

 _Only those with the strength to bear it will survive._

 _All patience will be rewarded for those who wait,_

 _But do not rely on time for it is both your ally and adversary._

 _And think before you act,_

 _Considering all possibilities before taking the next course of action._

By the time I had gone through the whole thing, my rage had settled, and I felt calm once more. Getting up and gathering my scattered things, I slowly made my way upstairs to my room.

With my mind clear now, I understood what I needed to do. Sure, I still was at war with myself, wanting to both get to know Optimus better, but I also understood the necessity to not get too attached to him. I just hoped that I would still feel the same way when I hung out with him next time.

* * *

—Later, Dream—

 _Triumphantly, a thirteen, almost fourteen, year-old version of me walked through the darkened city streets and side alleyways with little fear. It was nighttime. A little after midnight I reckoned. The sky above was clear, and I could easily make out multitudes of tiny stars in the blackness, despite all of the city lights shinning as well. The moon was just beginning to wax; the slim sliver reminding me of the Cheshire cats' grin from Alice in Wonderland._

 _A triumphant smirk was plastered across my scarred features, and I just seemed to ooze the gloating air of a predator as I walked, internally preening. I had just left one of the hidden locations of the blood fights after emerging victorious. It was the first time I had won one of the battle royale competitions against a bunch of other old-hands and had come out pretty much unscathed, (with the exception of a few bruises and small bumps). That was definitely a new record in my book and something to be proud of. I had been pitted against five other seasoned vets, each of whom had turned out to be quite skilled in hand-to-hand combat. They had all decided to gang up on me at first, probably because I was the youngest and only girl among them, but I had managed to come out on top._

 _Anyways, I think the best part about the fights had been that I had managed to walk out with a considerably heavier pocket then when I had entered._

 _Not only that but my reputation had been growing; at least one or two people at the fights knew of me. Sure, I wasn't too fond of people fearing me, but it was the price you had to pay if you wanted to survive on the streets. Fear meant respect, and respect equaled wariness and aversion. Of course, I still couldn't let my guard down just yet, but I could at least count on people backing off._

 _My years on the streets had not been kind ones but I had been freer and happier than I had ever been before._

 _Suddenly, a chillingly familiar voice called out to me._

" _Sweetheart," the disembodied voice crooned, making my entire frame tense._

 _Suddenly, I wasn't a hardened thirteen-year-old walking confidently down a darkened alley anymore but a scared little girl, hiding in a closet. My grey eyes were wide with apprehension and I could hear as my little heart started to pound at a faster pace._

" _Go away!" little me demanded, eyes fixed on the door of the closet, waiting for him to find me._

 _Suddenly, the door burst open, and I was in so much agony. My face burned. My arm hurt. My entire body felt as if had been dumped into a vat of scalding acid and was slowly dissolving. Flickers of images passed by in front of my eyes, but I couldn't make sense of any of them. The pain was too much. I screamed and screamed but I knew nobody could hear me while I was trapped in this hell. Nobody except_ him _._

 _Even amidst the sounds of my frightened pleas and screams of agony, I could hear his cold laughter, enjoying every second of my misery._

Faster than a speeding comet, I bolted upright in bed, knife drawn, and eyes searching the darkness for intruders. But there was nothing. Nothing except the sounds of my own labored breathing and a trickle of sweat that rolled down the side of my face. After realizing that it was just a dream, I lowered my knife only to realize that my throat felt rather raw. Had I screamed in my sleep again?

Looking out the window thoughtfully, I was at least thankful that my room was mostly soundproof. Granted, no one really lived in this part of town since it was mostly warehouses and whatnot, but at least I wouldn't have drawn anyone's attention with my screaming. That would have been bad if I had.

Sighing a bit as I turned away from the window, I brushed back a couple stray golden hairs behind my ears, feeling the tangled nest my long hair had twisted itself into during the night and the glistening sheen of sweat that clung to my skin.

 _Haven't had one of those nightmares in a long time_ , I realized belatedly before glancing at the alarm clock on my nightstand, only to curse loudly when I realized what time it was. "Shit!"

Jumping out of bed in a panicked scramble, I hurried toward the bathroom thinking, _Dammit! Need to hurry! I'm gonna be late!_

* * *

—Later, School—

"Hey, you're back," Jack greeted as he took a seat next to me in Mister Dockall's Psychology class.

"Yep. You didn't cry while I was gone did you, baby bro?" I teased, earning an exasperated eye roll from the raven-haired teen. If you hadn't noticed already, aside from explosive bouts of anger, it was rare for me to express any emotion at all. That made any nuggets of sentiment I expressed extremely valuable to those who are considered close to me like Jack is. Sure he isn't really in the know-how of my 'other' life, but it's the thought that counts. I mean, if I wasn't such a paranoid daughter of a bitch, I would probably have more people I considered trustworthy than just those I could literally count on one hand.

"Please, I was starting to actually enjoy the semi-quiet of your absence," he joked, the other students shuffling and talking around us.

I raised a brow at the use of the word 'semi-quiet'. "Hey I'm not the one who's always yodeling in the back of the classroom," I joked right back, causing Jack to choke a bit on his laughter. "So, Miko?"

"Miko," he agreed as both of us rolled our eyes.

"And what stupid stunts has she pulled recently?" I dared to ask.

Jack snorted. "You don't want to know."

"No answer is still an answer Darby," I smirked. "What foolishness has she pulled you into this time? And I hope for her sake it doesn't involve any axes."

Jack rubbed the back of his head bashfully, and I got the suspicion that the wild, foreign exchange student had nothing to do with whatever had happened for once. But that couldn't be right. Miko was always at the forefront of any trouble. So why did Jack seem so hesitant all of a sudden?

"Jack, what happened?" I asked quietly, though we both knew from my tone that it was more of a demand.

Again, Jack ran a hand through his hair as he said, "Oh, you know…stuff."

My eyes narrowed on him, not even noticing how the temp seemed to drop twenty degrees for those who saw that look.

Thankfully for Jack, he didn't have to answer right away as the teacher walked into the classroom and the student fell silent.

' _Tell me_ ,' I wrote on a corner of my paper and showing it to Jack when the teachers back was turned.

' _Met a spider-like 'Con named Airachnid who tried to kill me. She & 'Cee have a bad history_,' he wrote back.

I nodded to show that I had read the message, pretending to focus on the lesson as the teacher talked.

' _U OK?_ '

' _I will live._ '

Accepting the answer, I then spent the remainder of lesson listening to whatever the teacher was talking about and playing hangman with Jack on a blank page in my notebook.

* * *

—Later—

Have I ever mentioned how much I enjoy riding my motorcycle before? Because if I haven't yet, then you should know that I seriously enjoy the feel of the wind brushing past me, even if a majority of my body was protected by riding gear. It was just something about the freedom that driving a powerful machine made me feel. Freedom. That's a great word to describe what I feel right now.

School had just ended a while ago, and I had closed up my shop an hour after the kids had gotten out. Now I was taking the long way around before I headed to base.

 _PWWWWAAAAAAARP!_

Risking a glance in one of my small rearview mirrors, I couldn't help but smirk a bit when I sighted a familiar-looking, red-and-blue semi driving a couple yards behind me. Thankful that the long dirt road was empty, I switched to the left lane and slowed a bit until I was driving side-by-side with Optimus.

From the looks of it, he was just coming back from one of his 'meditative' drives that I knew he took every one in a while to clear his processor. Apparently, Cybertronians of any kind don't like being cooped up too long before they go stir-crazy, too. Even Ratchet, who seemed to be the main inhabitant of base, got out every so often to take a drive.

Anyways, since we couldn't exactly exchange words, Optimus and I were content to mostly drive side-by-side, even if I wasn't supposed to be driving in the other lane like that. But nobody was around and I figured that there was no harm to it.

Speaking of which…we weren't far from base. But I was willing to bet that I could still have a little fun before we got to our destination, and I had to put on my impassive mask and act like an emotionless freak. I mean, I had not forgotten my dilemma from the night before, but a little fun wouldn't hurt, right?

Accelerating once more, I maneuvered my motorcycle until I was in front of Optimus. Then, ever so carefully, I began to almost taunt him in a way, slowing down a bit on purpose before speeding up and doing swervies and whatnot in front of him, even revving my engine in a challenging way once in a while. It was kind of funny.

For a little bit, Optimus just to ignore my actions, continuing at the same speed we had been going at. It wasn't until I had started pulling some more daringly dangerous stunts like wheelies, switchbacks and a leap of faith, that I got a reaction out of him.

* * *

—Optimus' POV—

His charge seemed to be in a rather playful mood today. But that could have just as easily have been misinterpreted as mischievousness on her part, especially considering the prank she had pulled on Ratchet previously.

Anyway, coming upon her like this had been a bit of a surprise for him.

The stresses of leadership had been getting to Optimus a lot recently. So, it was inevitable that he had eventually decided to take a long relaxing drive around the area. This venture had been long overdue, and he always seemed to forget how enjoyable these drives were until he took another one.

And then he had come across Aria.

Just as he was heading back to base, he had found her riding around on her blue-and-red motorcycle. He had been surprised to say the least when he first saw her. They were quite far from base after all, and he could not come up with a viable reason as to why she would be out here, driving alone on one of the back roads. Of course, he sincerely hoped that she was not planning to go on another one of her 'trips' so soon after the last one. But it seemed that his worries were for nothing because Aria just seemed to be enjoying the freedom of driving like he was.

After getting over the shock of meeting so unexpectedly, they had both wordlessly resolved to just be content with driving like this together.

But apparently, that was not enough for the blonde-haired mystery know as Aria Slade-Cage. Maneuvering so that she was zooming along in front of him, he hadn't thought much of it at first, which was a mistake on his part. She had then started to accelerate before just as suddenly decelerating, slowing until her back wheel was only a yard or two from him. Then, like a sparkling she had begun to swerve from one side of the lane to the other, leaning dangerously to the side on the curves before straightening and revving her engine loudly a couple times.

It wasn't until Aria came particularly close to crashing into him that he realized that she was goading him. But, he did not give in, content to let Aria entertain herself this way while keeping a close eye on her so as to make sure that she did not end up hurting herself.

As it was though, ignoring her seemed to be the wrong thing to do as Aria then stepped up her efforts and began to perform more dangerous tricks like pulling various wheelie maneuvers, and turning on the seat of the bike so that she was facing the opposite direction her bike was going and waving cheekily at him before turning back around. And on one spark-stopping account, Aria had actually stood on the seat of the bike and _jumped_ as high as possible into the air only to land onto the tank of the bike.

Eventually, Optimus just decided to give in to her sparkling-like antics and play along for a little while, if only to prevent her from doing more dangerous stunts.

Revving his engine loudly, the Autobot leader accelerated until he was a mere two meters from touching her back tire before decelerating. In response, Aria zoomed off farther ahead before slowing down again and swerving from side to side a mere two feet from his radiator grille.

Had he been in his bipedal form, Optimus would have been shaking his helm in exasperation; the cheeky femme was toying with him.

Chuckling softly, they continued their little game for a short while longer before the base finally came into sight. Of course, knowing Aria, she would not let them go in without one last hurrah.

A second later, he was proven right when Aria pulled up beside him and revved her engine in challenge.

Revving his in response, they both gunned it, aiming toward last meter mark at the end of the road, which was the unspoken finish line.

Sixty meters to go…

The marker was in sight.

Twenty meters to go…

Almost there.

Five meters to go…

They were neck in neck.

Aria and he both roared past the marker at blinding speeds. It wasn't until he checked his speedometer that he realized that he had been traveling several miles over what even his vehicle mode was technically capable of doing. He honestly didn't know who had won. But oddly enough, he found that he did not care all that much, either. Their little race had been rather…fun.

It was rather odd, he realized, that all the little enjoyable experiences he had been having as of late usually had something to do with his charge, Aria. The long conversations, the interesting explanations of human culture versus cybertronian...even this little race; they all involved Aria. But he guessed that that was part of the enigma that comprised Aria.

Rolling into base, everyone glanced over at them before most of them turned back to their pervious activities.

That is until Ratchet stepped forward.

"And just where have you two been?" he demanded, looking between both of them like a parent waiting for his kids to actually tell him where they had been at two in the morning.

Optimus and Aria shared a look, and the Prime briefly noticed how his charge had a rather mischievous look on her face that dared him not to laugh.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

"We were merely taking a drive, Ratchet," Optimus replied coolly, acting for all the world like we had not just been racing. I had to admit that he had a pretty impressive poker face, but I guess that came from years of practice.

 _No, Aria. Bad, bad, Aria_ , I mentally scolded myself when an image of Optimus trying to play poker popped into my head. Honestly, the weird places my mind went sometimes.

Seeing that while I had been distracted by my thoughts, Optimus had managed to send off Ratchet, I smirked up at him.

"By the way, I totally won that one, Prime," I said impishly.

The corners of Optimus' mouth twitched, and his striking blue optics shined with amusement. "Whatever you say, Aria." Even with that deep, baritone voice of his, the way he said it was like he was merely humoring a small child. However, I could tell that he had had fun.

I had too, but in the light of my promise, I wasn't about to tell him that. So with a false smile sent in the Autobot leader's direction, I let my face slip into its usual mask and moved to put my bike in a corner before joining the kids and seeing what they are up to.

But little did I know what my precious little mask of emotionless and safety was soon going to endure.

* * *

—Later—

"Optimus, you're not going to believe this," Ratchet called from the monitors, a topographical map pulled up on them and a square marked on a particular spot. "I've just pinpointed the location of the Decepticon warship."

Immediately, all of us stopped what we were doing and stepped forward to take a look. Of course, I don't think that many of us even knew where exactly it was that the screens were showing but we all came over anyways. This was pretty big stuff after all.

"How did you penetrate their cloaking technology?" my guardian immediately asked, looking at the large square blip in the middle of the screen.

"I didn't," the medic admitted. "I was experimenting the variable frequency wavelengths when I stumbled upon it," he explained as an image of the Decepticon warship, the _Nemesis_ , appeared. Now seeing what it looked like from the side, the thing made me think of a cross between a goblin shark and a fanfin that had met Procrustes the stretcher from Greek mythology. Anyways, according to the world map on the screen next to it, it looked like they were in a more temperate zone of Asia, not quite close to either the North Pole or the equator but definitely near the Northern Pacific Ocean. "Even still, their ship must be experiencing some kind of electromagnetic breach."

"With Megatron deceased and the element of surprise," Arcee began, getting more excited at the prospect and pounding her fist into her palm.

"We could cause some serious damage," Bulkhead agreed.

There was another sound from the monitors and another beacon popped up, showing a much smaller yet smoother looking spaceship as Ratchet continued. "Also on the same frequency…an Autobot emergency beacon."

Optimus, being the valiant leader he was, did not even hesitate to decide the next course of action. Seriously, I did not even need to look at him to know what he was going to say next.

"The Decepticons can wait," he said in his rumbling baritone that never failed to inspire. "There may be Autobots in distress. Ratchet, bring your medical kit."

Immediately, the medic nodded and went to grab his gear from the medical bay while the others went back to their previous activities. Not even five minutes later though, Optimus and Ratchet left through the swirling ground bridge, but as their forms disappeared through the green vortex, I suddenly got a terrible feeling about this.

* * *

—Optimus' POV—

Stepping out of the swirling green vortex with his faceguard in place and Ratchet right behind him, Optimus let his optics adjust to the darkened, sandy landscape around them before trying to find their objective; but it did not take them as long as they thought it would to find the ship.

Several yards away lay a large, mangled and twisted, metallic wreckage of a Cybertronian ship, partially buried in the sands of the vast desert they were in. Above them, the full moon rose high in the sky, peeking out from behind a large blanket of grey cloud coverage and giving them a nice view of the ship.

"A crash landing," Optimus observed with a rumble of concern in his tone. "Buried here for centuries."

Wasting no time, they both quickly strode forward, moving sand away from a part of the hull before the medic used a laser to cut through the thick, grey metal. It was eerily quiet out here, with nothing but the sound of the wind in the desert and Ratchet cutting a large hole through the ship. And while he was not an easy bot to scare, something about this ship did not sit right with Optimus.

Eventually, there was a loud clang, signaling the creation of a new entrance in the ship. Stepping through the hole with little difficulty, his medic still following close behind, they both activated their lights so as to see better in the darkness of the crashed ship.

"If they traveled in stasis mode, there may be survivors," his medic explained quietly, more for his own benefit, as they walked through the tilted hallways of the spaceship.

Suddenly, there was an ominous groaning and both of them had to grab onto the walls for stability as the unstable ship shifted and moved before settling again. Continuing on without comment, Optimus noted how the metal surrounding them was rusty and coated with a slight layer of dust. And now that the sounds of the desert were gone, the echoes of their footsteps in the stillness seemed especially loud, like thunderclaps at a library.

Eventually though, they came to a large door that was jammed closed. Not even saying a word, Optimus stepped forward and, with some effort, managed to pry the rusty thing open and step through. The sight that greeted his optics though was not pretty. A bulky blue mech with a triangular shaped helm lay dead on the floor, his frame rusted and his mouth wide open. Puddles of ominous purple energon, almost eerily similar to dark energon in color, also surrounded the deceased mech. Looking around, several more bots, also mechs, lay in similar fashions on the ground, each one more rusted and dusty than the last, and their mouths hanging open in silent screams as pools of the oddly colored energon surrounded each of them.

It was a horrible and spark-wrenching sight, and each death seemed to add another weight to his shoulders. If only he had fought harder. If he had just seen Megatron for what he truly was in the first place, then maybe he could have stopped all this from happening. Stopped the war, stopped the exodus, stopped the pain of all these losses.

But there was nothing he could do now except acknowledge each one for their sacrifices, mourn them and move on, ensuring that their sacrifices were not in vain.

"Optimus," Ratchet called from somewhere to his left, drawing him back to reality. Apparently, while he had been staring at the fallen, lost in his thoughts, Ratchet had taken the initiative to examine one of the bodies so as to deduce what had caused the deaths of these Autobots. "These Autobots didn't perish in the crash," Ratchet said quickly, seeming panicked. "They're displaying the effects of a virus."

Thinking back to what Optimus had first assumed was rust on the corpses and the sickly-looking energon scattered about, he now realized that he was wrong. "This is a plague ship," he rumbled, nodding his helm in agreement.

"Don't touch anything!" Ratchet warned, stepping in front of him before he could accidentally step in a puddle of energon. "The virus could still be active."

Suddenly, the ship began to shift once more, making the pair of them throw out their arms and bend their knees in attempts to steady themselves as the unstable structure groaned and shifted. Unfortunately, as the vessel pitched to one side, they were both sent slamming into a corner of the ship.

And it was then in the confusion and chaos of the rocking of the ship, that it happened. By pure chance as his helm was thrown back in the violent pitching of the vessel, Optimus glanced up to meet the dead optics of another deceased mech who was dangling from the rafters. Then, as if in slow motion, he watched as two small drops of energon fell from the body of the mech and into his optic.

"No!"

* * *

—Later, Aria's POV—

 _No…_

As if she had just looked into the gorgon Medusa's eyes and been turned to stone, Aria's whole body seemed to freeze. Her face had drained of any color, becoming an ashy pale pallor as her grey eyes went wide with horror as she watched Ratchet haul a weakened Optimus through the ground bridge.

 _No…_

Placing the weak bot on a berth and hooking him up to all sorts of medical instruments, the eldest human of the group did not hear anything except what the Autobot medic was saying as time just seemed to slow down. But the red and white bots words were distant and far away, like she was hearing them from across the room or through a tunnel or something.

"Cybonic plague," the medic was saying, causing the other three Autobots to share a worried look. Already, one could hear a faint sound of static coming from Optimus, whose optics flickered dangerously, especially the right one which was obviously infected. It was as if rust had suddenly set in there but the small, dark spider web-like veins branched out from the infected area. "It's only contagious if contact is made with the infected energon."

 _No, no, no!_

"What was a plague doing in an Autobot spaceship?" someone asked and Aria faintly registered that it was Miko who had asked.

 _No! This can't be happening…Not again…_

"Its passengers were infected," Arcee explained so the Ratchet would not have to answer since he was busy doing his job as the teams medic.

 _Infected._ _ **Dying.**_

Aria's knuckles turned white with the force she was gripping the bar of the railing. She didn't even notice that she was shaking like a shell-shocked cat after being chased by a vicious dog as her thoughts swirled dangerously with her fear.

The femme's next words made her want to hurl.

"The virus wiped out millions on Cybertron during the Great War."

 _Wiped out_ _ **millions**_ _…Oh, Optimus_.

Jack, noticing how unmoving and rigid Aria was, came over and placed an arm around her shoulders. Raf followed too, wrapping his arms around her middle. Both of them tried to comfort her to the best of their abilities, but it didn't matter; she was too numb to feel it. Stoic she may have looked on the outside, but on the inside, fear ruled her thoughts.

"Cybonic plague was engineered in the Decepticons' biological-warfare program," Ratchet continued quietly, his next few words turning the blood in her veins to ice. "By Megatron himself."

"You have a cure, don't you?" Raf asked from Aria's side, stating the question more for her benefit. Both he and Jack could feel how she tensed as she waited for an answer.

"No…cure…" her poor guardian managed to groan out weakly. It was heartbreaking to hear how feeble he sounded, his baritone voice now raspy and laced with static; the once mighty Prime brought low by a simple yet utterly devastating virus of the past. She had seen him take down an army of zombie and this was how her guardian was brought down? The thought of it caused her eyes to almost glisten with unshed tears.

But they never fell.

"Optimus, please, save your strength," Ratchet quietly chided.

"Would Megatron create a disease without having a cure?" Jack suddenly asked, gaining my attention, along with everyone else. "I mean, what if he caught it by accident?"

Aria's eyes widened and it was like she was suddenly thrust back into the normal stream of time. Yes, that was it! Gradually, her mind started spinning at a rapid, almost fevered, pace, working on the possibilities, probabilities, and a plan.

"It's not like we can ask Megatron, Jack. He's pushing up lug nuts," Bulkhead said, stupidly not realizing that the answer was right in front of us all.

 _We have the location of the Decepticon ship. If we have that then we can ground bridge on board and look for it. We couldn't go to their medical bay since I doubt anyone on the team knows where it was and there would likely be at least one bot there to sound the alarm_.

"But we might be able to access the Decepticon database," Ratchet pointed out, catching on.

 _But like all medical facilities and military bases, they would at least have to document such an important cure since I doubt that even Megatron would allow his troops to be devastated by the virus. So someone would have to get into their database and locate it. If it wasn't there…_

"For the moment, we still have a fix on their warship's location," the medic continued.

The golden-haired girl shook her head; she did not want to think about that possibility.

"Bumblebee, come with," Arcee immediately ordered, jumping into action.

"Arcee," Ratchet called before they stepped through the now open ground bridge, drawing the blue femme's attention. The medic was listening, like we all were, to Optimus' labored, almost pained breathing. "Quickly."

He didn't need to say what we were all likely thinking: time was of the essence.

* * *

While everyone else stood to watch Arcee and Bee leave, I gently pulled myself out of Jack's and Raf's grip and made my way down the stairs, migrating over to my sickly guardians side. There was nothing I could do to help them, but I could help Optimus. Pulling myself onto the medical berth next to him, I just stood there, still as a statue, looking at him, and taking in how sick he looked.

Hell, I barely even twitched, refusing point blank to take my eyes off my guardian for even a second. To anyone else, it would appear as if I really had been turned to stone, especially considering my rather pale complexion right now. My expression frozen and my eyes betraying no emotion. But inside though, I was a mess, my emotions mixed and jumbled as if they had just gone through a blender. In a sense, it felt as though if I so much as batted an eyelid, I would fall to pieces. I wanted to say something, anything, to comfort Optimus like he had done for me, but only a hushed whisper made it past my lips:

"Don't you dare die on me, Prime. You hear? 'Cause I won't let you."

I was not going to allow one of the few people I was starting to trust to die before my eyes again.

—Flashback—

I was little girl once again. My father, who was a wealthy businessman, had very little time to play with me when I was young—not that he ever would if he could—so he usually delegated that duty to one of his bodyguards.

Most of them agreed, especially when they saw the pay. I mean, extra pay for watching the boss' brat, easy right? Just stick 'em in front of a TV and kick back and relax. Unfortunately for them though, I was a little terror back then. I would burn through babysitters faster than a longtime smoker would a pack of cigarettes. Each one of them would come in thinking that this would be an easy gig…only to be assaulted by nerf gun darts, toy arrows with suction cups at the end, and a colorful array of fabric markers and other nasty surprises. Some lasted longer than others but in the end they all were sent packing.

That is until _he_ came into the picture.

Raoul Bellerose was a friendly but soft-spoken French guy from North Dakota. He had taken a job offer with my father's company after he had retired from the US military after several years of loyal service. Raoul proved very quickly to be quite unique. While he wasn't the smartest or the strongest guy out there, he definitely wasn't a complete push-over. After a majority of my 'babysitters' had quit for certain unknown—I had nothing to do with it for once, I swear—reasons, I think my father just picked out a random resume from the stack, pulled out Raoul's dossier, and offered the guy higher pay in exchange for babysitting yours truly, neglecting to mention the circumstances of his predecessors early reassignment. Despite his colleagues' warnings, Raoul had taken the job and got stuck with watching my spoiled ass eight hours a day.

Honestly, when I had first met the guy, I had thought he was rather plain. Dark hair and pale skin with elfin-like features and high-cheekbones, Raoul was neither very tall nor buff and looked absolutely gullible with his lack of a bodyguard-like scowl.

I had taken one look at him and decided in my adolescent mind that getting rid of him would be easy as pie. Big mistake. I guess that just goes to show that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, right? Of course that is why the cover I there, too, so you can judge.

Anyhow, my first attempt at humiliating him had taken a surprising turn when I had drawn a mustache on him while he was asleep and he had woken up and merely smiled and laughed a bit when he had seen my 'masterpiece.'

Other further attempts had only been met with similar results and I actually began to get frustrated with my sting of failures. It wasn't until one day when he had caught me with a live snake that he had asked me jovially, "Why do you fight me, _chère_? I'm not that bad am I?" (Dear one).

Eventually, I had started to warm up to the man and he sort of became the de facto father I never had. He taught me basics on how to fight and hold a gun properly and other such things like manners which he claimed at the time were a necessity for all matters big or small. Raoul had especially impressed upon me the importance of values like loyalty and trust, honor, courage, mercy and faith. I could go to him for almost anything and he would have an answer read.

But a couple years later, it all came crashing down when an attack on my father's company had ruined everything.

I had been at least seven years old at the time. Raoul and I were walking together through the lobby of my father's company building, talking about the pros and cons of fighting solo and fighting as a team.

"…Ah, but little dove, you forget," he had argued back in his slightly accented voice, speaking in his usual gentle way, "each member of a team has something to contribute."

Dove, he always called me 'dove' or 'little dove' which was kind of ironic since my name meant "air" in Italian and its Teutonic origins relate to a bird, specifically an eagle I think; it is also the name of a solo in an opera and in Hebrew, it's derived from Ariel, meaning "lion of God" but that's irrelevant.

"But what if one of those members is taken out?" I had pointed out, my grey eyes searching his expression. "Surely then they'll be less effective. I mean, a loss of a qualified medic will surely be a heavy blow."

He nodded, his dark green eyes gaining a thoughtful look. "I can understand that logic, but usually people in a team are trained in more than one skillset. People in SWAT teams for example have to know at least three different skills so as to prevent that from happening."

"And if all those people are taken out? What then?" I persisted.

"Then yes, dove, I guess a unit would be rendered less effective," he conceded. "But a single person has only their skills and nothing else to rely on, that is why they are usually called specialists, since they only excel in one field."

We were so wrapped up in our little debate that neither of us noticed as several men wearing ski masks walked in, toting large guns behind them.

"But that's why they are sent out on job specifically suited for their capabilities," I remarked.

He chuckled softly, ruffling my hair a bit as he said fondly, "yes, how right you are little – Aria get down!"

Throwing me to the ground with surprising swiftness, we just narrowly avoided the first barrage of bullets. Those who hadn't been lucky fell anyway, their cries of pain, as well as the sound of gunshots, echoing in my ears.

Raoul was lying on top of me, shielding my smaller frame from harm with his own much larger one. We had somehow been lucky enough to be in a corner of the room when the attack had happened. Anyhow, somewhere in the background, I could hear one of the men wearing ski masks saying something about us cooperating and them having issues with my father, but it was difficult to tell what they were saying exactly as my ears were still ringing from the loud bangs of the guns being fired off. Once I could hear clearly though, I could make out Raoul whispering something quietly in my ear.

"…need you to sneak upstairs and warn the others," I heard him say.

"What about you?" I whispered back, fear evident in my voice. This was the first time I had ever seen this much violence. And to be brutally honest, I was scared, terrified even. I had no idea what to do.

"I will distract them," he said quickly. "When I give you the signal, I want you to go over to the left staircase over there and start climbing as quickly as you can. Do not run in a straight line. Once you are on the second floor, I want you to get into the ventilation system like you used to and get to the other floors. Find someone and alert them to what is going on. Do you understand?"

I did. But he wanted me to leave him behind? To abandon him? What happened to all that teamwork stuff he was talking about just moments ago?

"Aria, do you understand?" he hissed, looking me directly in the eyes and being very serious for once.

Reluctantly, I nodded, my eyes wide.

Seeming to take that as a good sign, Raoul turned his gaze back on the gunmen, planning his next course of action.

"Get ready to run then."

And with that, he stood up and approached the men, his hands raised in surrender.

"Salutations gentlemen. I believe that I can be of some help to you here," he greeted warmly, like he was some host at a fancy restaurant, not being held hostage and threatened at gunpoint.

Carefully, I watched as Raoul chatted amicably with the gunmen, using big words and speaking slowly to buy time as he sneakily scooted around until the gunmen's backs were turned to me. Once they were all looking at him, Raoul absentmindedly scratched the side of his nose like something was bothering him.

That was the signal.

Getting up slowly and trying not to make any sudden moves, I crept over to the door to the stairwell and pushed it open.

 _Creeeaaaakkkk…_

Tensing, I didn't even wait to see if one of the men had glanced over in my direction and bolted through the door, hearing loud shouts coming from behind me. Dashing up the steps two at a time, I made it to the second floor landing just as the door of the floor below me burst open.

Closing the door behind me, I raced toward the nearest vent duct. Luckily or not so luckily, the second floor of the building was empty as it was comprised entirely of machines that did who knows what. I could hear my pursuers crashing around behind me as I ducked underneath tables and wove my way through the electrical maze, making sure to follow what Raoul said and not run in a straight line. Soon enough my target was in sight, but the voices were getting louder too. Trying to ignore the terror coursing through me, I then used a rather squat machine as leverage and leapt up to the top of another much taller machine right underneath the my intended target. Thanks to years of usage, the metal covering was not hard to remove and I dove right in as soon as the grating swung to the side, hanging precariously from a single screw.

Army crawling through the maze before me, I navigated it with ease thanks to years of using them to play pranks on my unfortunate babysitters. But as I did so, my heart was pounding loudly in my ears, and I was sure that my breath was coming in short bursts, though it was hard to hear over the roar of my blood and the scuffling I was making as I crawled.

Thankfully, I made it to the sixth floor in time, panting like there was no tomorrow and covered in dust.

Tumbling out a random ventilation grate, I found the nearest person in sight which happened to be one of Raoul's fellow bodyguards, Felix Fontaine.

"Felix! Felix! You need to call the police! There were these masked guys carrying guns and–"

The man with honey-blonde hair before me merely rolled my eyes and cut me off. "Aria, cut the crap! I don't have time for one of your shenanigans right now."

I stomped my foot childishly, which probably wasn't helping my case right now. "I'm not making this up! Call the cops! Raoul's in danger!" I squealed, my voice getting louder and louder, causing a couple people nearby to look over.

"Uh-huh," he said in an unimpressed tone. "Look kid, I'm sure that whatever game you're playing with Bellerose is quite fun, but I'm not your babysitter so don't drag me into your shit."

Tears streamed down my face, whether out of frustration or fear I do not know. Why didn't they get it?

Suddenly, several loud gunshots went off and several people on the same floor jumped and looked around towards the direction they had originated from, a couple of them yelping a bit.

"Dammit! Somebody call the cops!" I yelled in my squeaky voice only to be ignored.

More gunshots went off and I watched as several people went down. Felix, the idiot, was talking with other people on his radio, his eyes fixed on the area near the elevator doors where the shots had sounded from.

I was about to say something else when the man before me suddenly took off, heading towards where the gunmen were.

People screamed and more rounds were fired; all was chaos and panicked confusion. I didn't know what to do. I mean, I knew there was a number you could call to get the police here, but I didn't remember what it was. Raoul would know, but he wasn't here.

Looking about frantically for a hidden solution, I located a small cellphone lying on the ground nearby. Perfect. Grabbing it, I dashed away, crawling under tables and making sure to stay low. Finding another ventilation shaft, I climbed around until I was back on the ground floor, looking down the receptionist's empty desk. Well, mostly empty desk except the three receptionists were lying on the floor, blood pooling around them and their eyes unblinking and unseeing. Dead.

Trying to focus on anything other than the nausea now building up, I listened intently for any noises below, but all seemed to be quiet. Hesitating slightly, I carefully removed the grate and peeked out a bit, checking to see if the coast was clear. There was nothing. Carefully, I lowered myself down, swinging from the opening and landing in a roll to soften the landing.

Motionless people laid about everywhere, and the color red seemed to be in every which direction I looked. Thankfully, none of the faces I saw belonged to Raoul. But where was he then?

Suddenly, a thought occurred to me: the side rooms! There were a bunch of small meeting rooms connected to the lobby where businessmen and women usually met to discuss matters instead of showing them through the upper floors of the building; it was supposed to help with security from what I understood.

Hope still blazing bright inside of me, I headed towards another door and pushed it open. A long hallway with several rooms stretched before me, kind of like how some school nurses. A trail of blood laid before me too so I pressed forward. The first few I checked were empty. The seventh one though, where the blood trail ended…

I found him there in one of the side rooms, sitting on the floor and leaning against a wall. His elfin-like features were pale and sickly. There was a large red splotch forming on the front of his chest, staining his shirt red and another on his right thigh.

"Raoul?" I tried timidly, my voice shaking.

Groaning he looked over at me, his eyes a bit widening when he saw me.

"A-ria?" he gurgled in surprise before coughing a bit and causing blood to dribble down from his lips.

Tears immediately filled my eyes once more as I rushed over to him and hugged the dark-haired man not even caring about getting blood on me as the man emitted a slight hiss.

"R-Raoul, I'm so sorry!" I sobbed. "I tried to warn them but they wouldn't listen! And then those men got up there and– and–"

"Shhhh, little dove. You tried your best. All will be well," he soothed, hugging me despite the pain he was likely in and stroking my head. I could hear an odd ragged sound emanating from his chest as he breathed. Gently, he drew me away, and looked me right in the eyes. "Now I need you to find a phone, okay little one?"

"I grabbed one on the sixth floor," I said quickly, pulling it out of my pocket and showing it to him.

Accepting it with some difficulty, the man opened the device, fiddling with it, and then sighed, tossing it to the side. "It's dead, dove. You'll have to find another. And when you do, I want you to type in the numbers nine-one-one, okay? Can you do that for me?"

I shook my head frantically. "No! I'm not leaving you! You taught me to be loyal to my friends! I'm not gonna leave you!"

A soft smile crept across his face as a fond light entered his eyes. "I know, dove, but I also taught you to trust your friends and have faith in them, too. Can you have a little faith in me right now and trust me to make the right decision?"

Shamed, I nodded mutely.

"Good, now go find a phone and dial in the numbers nine-one-one, okay? There's gonna be another person on the end who answers. Listen to them and answer any of their questions. Can you do that?" he asked softly, coughing a bit more. I really didn't like how the blood was coming out of his mouth when he coughed.

 _Ca-chink._

"Don't move," a voice growled from behind me as something cold and metallic pressed into the back of my head.

It was undoubtedly one of the gunmen. I had no idea how he had snuck up on us like that but now it didn't matter. My entire body was frozen as if I had just been sprayed with an entire vat of liquid nitrogen.

Raoul, however, had no such limitations.

"It's me you want. Not her. She's just a kid, so let her go," he said slowly, coughing and hacking up more blood in between every few words.

"Be quiet," the man commanded, pressing the gun further into the back of my head.

"She's just a kid," Raoul repeated, managing to nudge me off his lap and stand up with some difficult. "You don't want her death on your conscience."

The gun now turned towards Raoul, muzzle aimed at his chest.

"I said, _be quiet_."

It was then that it happened.

Moving faster than I've ever seen him move, my dark-eyed friend tackled the masked man to the floor.

 _Bang!_

A single shot was fired off and blood sprayed. The two figures, who had been wrestling for control of the firearm on the floor, became immobile, and it wasn't until I felt my throat hurting that I realized that I was screaming.

—Flashback End—

Blinking a couple times, I shook my head a bit before focusing back on the present, listening as Arcee's voice echoed from the open comm. link channel.

-{ **I'm in the network.** }-

Still trying to shake off the effects of the old memories, I allowed that little flame of hope to blaze a little brighter. I could not lose hope. I had to believe that Optimus would get better.

"Ratchet…" Optimus groaned out, and I could see the strain that even just speaking took on him. "Were you…"

The Autobot medic, who had been working on one of the monitors in the medbay, doing who knows what, glanced over. "Infected?" he finished for the struggling Prime. "No."

Optimus seemed to sag a little in relief, apparently hearing the right words, and causing the corners of my lips to twitch a little. Even when he was sick, dying, in great pain, and on his death bed, the stupid, foolish Prime is still concerned with the well-being of others.

Typical, selfless and noble bot.

-{ **If it's here, I don't see it.** }- Arcee said, sending my spirits plummeting further.

Today is just not my day. Or Optimus' for that matter.

"Are you certain, Arcee?" Ratchet prodded.

-{ **I searched every file. Nothing.** }-

"Well, search again!" Ratchet snapped. "Clearly you missed something!"

-{ **I scanned the entire database!** }- she hollered back.

"Did you use a redundant quantum algorithm?"

-{ **Don't tell me how to research. You think you're the only one who cares about Optimus?** }- she snarled.

Just listening to them, my blood began to boil and I felt the urge to turn around yell at them to shut up. Optimus was fighting for his life and the others were squabbling like little children, running around like headless chickens without their leaders' direction.

-:{ _ **Arcee, you seriously need to see this.**_ }:- Bee buzzed from somewhere in the background.

-{ **What is it?!** }- we could hear the femme snap at the Autobot scout.

Suddenly, a sharp gasp issued from Arcee's end of the line.

Immediately, Ratchet was on alert. "What is it? What's going on?" he asked worriedly.

-{ **It's Megatron. He's… _alive_.** }-

I froze.

No. Fucking. Way.

"What?!" Jack yelped, understanding just how dangerous Megatron was, despite never having met him before.

"That's not possible," Ratchet insisted, obviously hoping like we all were that this was all some very bad joke.

 _This day is just getting better and better._

-{ **Well, I'm staring right at him. The good news is, Megatron isn't exactly staring back.** }-

Optimus had obviously been listening because he rasped out weakly, "Megatron…"

Even with all the static lacing his voice, I could hear that underlying tone of worry in his voice; worry for his friends, his Autobots, his family.

Knowing that there was so little I could do to help him, I laid a hand on his left cheek, drawing his attention. I didn't say anything, mainly because I didn't know what to say exactly so I just offered him a small but encouraging smile, though I'm not sure if he saw it with how much his optics were flickering.

-{ **He's critical, hooked up to life support.** }- 'Cee reported the faint sound of a Cybertronian blaster charging up accompanying her words. -{ **Time to finish this once and for all.** }-

Ratchet's optics widened comically as he shouted into the comm. link, "Wait! Don't!"

-{ **One good reason.** _ **Fast**_ **.** }-

"Megatron may be Optimus' only hope for survival," he quickly said.

We all looked at him, bewildered. No doubt more than a few of us were beginning to suspect that he was insane. Nonetheless, we all listened intently. We were all desperate from sort of miracle right about now.

-{ **What are you talking about?** }- Arcee immediately asked desperate as we all were to find a solution to our predicament.

"Does he display brain-wave activity?"

There was a short pause before we got a reply. -{ **Spiking hard. His sick mind still at work.** }- the Autobot femme reported with a snarl, no doubt thinking of all the mad schemes that said 'sick mind' had invented.

"Perfect."

I think that everyone who heard that statement gave the medic a 'WTF?' look.

 _Did he seriously just say that?_

"If a cure exists, Megatron may be the only one who knows it. You must enter his brain and find it," our resident mad genius explained quickly.

Thinking about it, the plan was completely insane yet…plausible and altogether very possible.

-{' **Enter Megatron's brain'? Ratchet, are you out of your fragging mind?** }- Arcee exclaimed.

"The Decepticon laboratory should contain all the equipment you need for a cortical psychic patch," the medic steamrollered on.

-{ **No way.** }- Arcee immediately said. -{ **Have you ever even performed the procedure?** }-

"No. But I have thoroughly studied the theoretical literature," he said, a determined light in his optics.

Secretly, I smirked.

 _Atta bot Ratch!_

"Invented by Decepticons; outlawed by Autobots."

"Aren't all good and equally terrible things?" I muttered, though understanding the reasoning as to why it had been outlawed. I mean even I would not want someone digging around in my brain.

-{ **Whoa. Can't we just haul Megatron through the ground bridge, buy us some time to figure this out?** }- Arcee tried, sounding close to begging and I got the feeling that there was more to her refusal than just moral dilemmas. Maybe personal experience?

"Time is one thing that Optimus does not have!" the medic snapped, just shy of roaring. "One of you must try this! I will not allow Optimus to pass, knowing that Megatron will outlive him!"

As scary as the medics anger was, I had to agree with his sentiments. But if I could help it, I would not allow Optimus to pass at all.

-{ **Ratchet, I would lay down my life for Optimus. Anytime, anywhere. But a mind/body split—** }-

-:{ _ **I'll do it.**_ }:- Bumblebee said suddenly, the ensuing silence that followed the statement reminding me of that one moment in _Lord of the Rings_ where Frodo volunteered during the council to take the ring to Mordor.

-{ **You will?** }- Arcee repeated in surprise.

"Are you sure, Bumblebee?" little Raf asked his guardian timidly, looking worried.

"Bee's the best scout there is," Bulkhead assured the kid with a smile though the kid still looked worried. Thankfully, Jack and Miko were there to support him.

I just hoped this crazy plan worked.

* * *

—Later—

-{ **Ratchet, we're ready.** }- the Autobot femme finally called.

"Initiate cortical psychic patch."

We all watched as Ratchet then did something on the screens and we all watched as a video feed appeared on it in the next moment. "Communications downlink activated," the medical mech said before turning to us confused humans and explaining it to us more thoroughly so that our less advanced brains could understand. "This will allow us to see and hear everything Bumblebee does while within Megatron's subconscious mind."

"Where's that?" Jack asked looking at the hell-like landscape on the feed.

-:{ _ **It looks like Kaon, the Decepticon capitol on Cybertron**_.}:- the scout buzzed to which Raf translated for the other two clueless humans on base. But I really wasn't paying attention; like Bulkhead, who had come over to check on the Optimus' status, we were growing steadily more concerned with the red-and-blue Prime's health.

"Ratch, Optimus' vitals," the bulky green giant said worriedly.

Already, Optimus' optics were offlined as he had fallen into a fitful and likely pain-filled recharge cycle a short while ago, while I had climbed up onto his chassis to watch over him better.

 _Please Optimus_ , I thought, almost wishing that I possessed the ability to speak with my guardian telepathically. _Stay strong._

"I know," the medic acknowledged softly before turning back to the screen to instruct the yellow scout. "Quickly, Bumblebee. I know you're in unknown territory, but you must figure out where information might be filed in Megatron's mind."

-:{ _ **Optimus?!**_ }:- Bee said, sound shocked and making me curious as to what was he was seeing in Megatron's mind.

"Bumblebee, that is not Optimus but a figment of Megatron's mind. It cannot see or hear you."

Suddenly a familiar laugh rang through the communications link. -{ **Optimus Prime** }- an equally memorable and rather raspy voice greeted. -{ **Your Autobot armies are defeated. Bow before your new master.** }-

Underneath me though, I could feel as the thrum of Optimus' spark got softer and softer, causing my heart clench painfully.

-{ **Never, Megatron** }- came Optimus' voice, strong as usual, through the speakers, causing me to jolt a bit in surprise before I remembered Ratchet's words. -{ **One shall stand. One shall fall.** }- There was a _shink_ sound and I could just imagine my guardian releasing his wrist blades, facemask activating as his bright blue optics narrowed on his target, assessing the situation and his opponent with shrewd intelligence.

-{ **So be it.** }-

For some random reason, I seriously wanted to crack a dirty joke about Megatron about being in love with Optimus or something of the like since he even dreamed about my guardian, but I figured that now wasn't a good time, especially when I heard a clash of metal followed by silence.

Even I wasn't in the mood after hearing that and knowing what had happened. But even just imagining it made my insides roil. This was the bot that had hurt Optimus so many times before; that was hurting Optimus even now.

-:{ _ **What the–?!**_ }:-

"That never happened," Bulkhead said sounding taken aback.

"It's not a memory," the medic explained. "We're seeing Kaon as Megatron has re-created it in his darkest dreams."

-{ **Megatron, your treachery ends here.** }- I heard what I assumed was another Optimus say.

-{ **Does it Optimus?** }- the Con sneered back but I heard a disturbing hint of amusement in his tone this time and I suddenly got a bad feeling. -{ **Even if I have this?** }-

Then I heard my own voice come through the communications link. -{ **Optimus! Help!** }- Even with looking at the feed, Megatron's version of me sounded weak and scared, and I could feel the eyes and optics of everyone turn toward me though I ignored it.

-{ **Leave the human alone Megatron!** }-

The Decepticon leader gave a long, low cackle before saying simply -{ **No.** }-

Then there was a sickening crunch, a scream of pain, and I heard Optimus scream.

I knew it wasn't real but I was really getting fed up with Megatron's shit. So, disregarding the fact that he could not hear me, I turned around and yelled angrily, " _Vas te faire encule Megatron!_ " (Fuck you Megatron!)

I was just so mad that I didn't even realize that I was cursing in French, not that I would have cared much though.

Somewhere in the background, I could hear Bulkhead asking the other kids quietly, "What did she just say?" and I heard Jack reply a tad fearfully, "I don't know and I don't want to find out."

Still focused on listening to the feed, I heard the familiar sounds of a blade being retracted followed by the humming of a cannon powering up, and I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing what was coming next. I heard the shot go off and could barely suppress a wince.

Then something changed. I heard the lead con growl out, -{ **The Autobot scout. The punishment for trespassing in my domain is your destruction!** }- I expected to hear the Autobot scout vaporized the next second, so imagine my surprise the next second when Bee emitted a surprised whirr the next second.

-:{ _ **Huh?**_ }:-

-{ **How can this be?!** }- Megatron said, obviously frustrated before letting lose a roar, which was followed by the swishing of something being slashed through the air at a rapid pace.

 _What is going on?_ I could not help but wonder, my concern for my guardian the only thing keeping me where I was.

"Megatron can't touch Bee?" Raf said hopefully, clueing me in a bit to what was going on.

Ratchet, being the only one out of all of us who really understood what was going on, was the one who provided him with an explanation. "Because he's not a creation of Megatron's mind, Bumblebee is immune to his physical attack," he said, his optics never leaving the screen.

Smirking outwardly, I mentally snickered at that. _Oh revenge you truly are too sweet!_

Eventually, Mega-thighs—yes, I just called the Decepticon warlord Mega-thighs—seemed to calm down and even I could hear the pounding of the Con's footsteps from where I was seated as he did…whatever he was doing. -{ **You're not wearing phase-displacement armor. Your eyes track my movements, so you're not a hologram. And I do not believe in spirits. So, tell me, scout, what are you?!** }-

 _He's a pink and purple polka-dotted hippo with bat wings and chicken feet, you dolt_ , I thought sarcastically. _Just shut up and cough up the damn cure, Megatron!_

-{ **Megatron.** }- the voice of my bot rumbled for the third time, the pound of his familiar steps accompanied by two others'.

 _Yep Megatron, you definitely have an unhealthy obsession with Optimus. That and some anger issues as well._

"Uh-oh. Special guest stars," Miko declared in her usual manner.

Ratchet seemed to agree with her on whatever was going on since he said, "This is not good."

Bee buzzed something to Megatron that I did not quite catch. And whatever happened afterwards though—I'm pretty sure that I heard Megatron give a bellow of rage that was similar to the one he had given me during our scuffle with zombified cybertronians—I learned that Megatron's mind is definitely not something to be underestimated. Sinister and twisted it may be, but he had definitely not survived centuries of war on just brute strength alone.

-{ **You are real. They were not.** }- he realized. There was a pause before the warlord chuckled darkly. -{ **A cortical psychic patch. How…unexpected.** }-

And why did I not like the way he said the word 'unexpected'?

"We've stirred Megatron from his oblivion," Ratchet gasped, sounding a tad unnerved and fearful. "He's becoming self-aware."

 _Thank you Captain Obvious, we totally hadn't noticed that._

-{ **If this is my subconscious...** }- the con began. **-{then what are you doing inside my head?!** }-

Underneath me, Optimus seemed to grow steadily colder, his sparkbeats almost few and far in between. His metal was no longer warm like it always was but lukewarm like how people's skin felt when they were having hot'n'cold flashes during a fever. His sparkbeats were definitely fainter than they had been in the last half-hour.

-{ **Ratchet, are you hearing this?** }- Arcee's hushed voice buzzed through the communication's link, drawing me out of my mental musings.

What was going on? What had happened?

"If Megatron perishes, Bumblebee's mind will remain separated from his body. Forever," Ratchet said, adding that last part with a tone of finality.

 _Dammit!_ How had I missed an entire conversation by just staring at my guardian?

"We'll lose Bumblebee and Optimus?!" Jack gulped, grasping the true gravity of this situation.

 _No, no, no_.

I was seriously starting to wish that this all was some terrible nightmare.

Meanwhile, Mega-ass was still monologuing. -{ **The only way you could have entered my mind is via cortical psychic patch. But the question remains, what happened to me?!** }- Bee did not respond; there was a brief pause and a small intake of breath before the Con leader began again, -{ **The space bridge explosion. And yet if– If you're in my head, then I am not one with the Allspark.** }- I had no idea what an Allspark was but I'm assuming it's something basically akin to the underworld. -{ **So, tell me, scout, do I still function?** }-

Optimus is dying and he's worrying about being functional?! Oh wait he doesn't know that. But still…

"Bumblebee, we are out of time!" Ratchet told the black and yellow bot.

Thankfully, Bumblebee lived up to Bulkhead's earlier praise and jumped right to the meat of the matter.

-:{ _ **Look, Megatron. The only reason I came here is because someone has the Cybonic plague and we need a cure.**_ }:- the scout said bravely, not even stuttering despite the fear he was likely feeling at the moment.

-{ **Cybonic plague? Someone besides myself is–Is unwell?** }- the Con asked.

He almost sounded genuinely concerned as he said that. Almost.

And then he had to go and ruin it by laughing triumphantly as he put two and two together. -{ **Optimus! Such irony! But after ages of endless battle, the mighty Optimus Prime is felled by a simple virus from the distant past.** }- My blood boiled at the deranged mech's words but I stayed silent this time, opting to mentally curse him out in every language I know as he turned his attention back on Bumblebee. -{ **And what makes you think I would save the life of my oldest enemy?** }-

-{ **Megatron, your treachery is –** }-

 _Boom!_

Another imaginary Optimus was likely blown to smithereens.

Luckily for us, Bee did not remain idle as he probably watched his leader vaporized for the fourth time. -:{ _ **But you'll never get to do what you want the most.**_ }:-

-{ **And just what is it that I want most, scout?** }- the con sneered at the scout.

-:{ _ **To kill Optimus by your own hand.**_ }:-

Mentally, I applauded Bee's cunning maneuvers.

-{ **Did you not see? I do slay Optimus by my own hand, at will, whenever I desire.** }-

-:{ _ **Yeah, but not the**_ **real** _ **Optimus.**_ }:- Bee argued back.

I had to hand it to him, he certainly had a way with words…but that may have something to do with being around Optimus a lot of the time.

"He told Megatron if he lets the plague virus destroy the real Optimus, Megatron will never get the chance to do it himself," I heard Rafael explaining to the other two back up on the catwalk.

"Smart," Jack smiled as Miko frowned and said distastefully, "Twisted."

Oh so _now_ she has a sense of morals?

Megaton hummed thoughtfully and I thought I heard a note of approval in the sound. -{ **After our deep history together, to** _ **not**_ **watch the spark ebb from Optimus' optics with my very own…** }-

-:{ _ **So I take it you agree?**_ }:- Bee pushed, knowing how pressed for time we were.

The larger bot rumbled a laugh. -{ **Well played, scout. The chemical formula for the cure you seek. Not that I expect you to know how to read it.** }- he said and I'm guessing he must have pulled up kind of image of the thing.

-:{ _ **Hey what's the big idea?**_ }:- our intelligent scout suddenly asked and I'm guessing that, like the bully he was, Megatron must have pulled it from the scout's reach before he could take it.

-{ **Not yet.** }- the con warned.

As I know very well from personal experience, nothing is _ever_ free. And knowing the sly bastard, he probably wanted to barter for it.

-:{ ** _What?_** }:-

I was indeed proven correct when the con said next, -{ **And how am I to accomplish terminating Optimus as you propose while I'm trapped here in a perpetual daydream? Once you release me from this prison, you will have the cure.** **You must guarantee my recovery, or Optimus fades to gunmetal gray. The** _ **real**_ **Optimus.** }-

 _Sick bastard._

Thankfully, Bee was saved the pain of answering as Ratchet said through the comm. link, "Arcee, we have the formula! Disconnect Bumblebee now!"

Without even realizing it, I released the breath I hadn't known I was holding. We had the cure; everything was going to be alright.

Ignoring everything else around me, I then returned back to watching my guardian, eager to see him well again soon.

* * *

—Later—

Watching from a dark corner of the room, a small smile made its way onto my lips as I watched Ratchet help Optimus stand up.

"That's it," the medic encouraged as the Prime wobbled on his pedes a little. "Steady."

The cure Megatron had provided had indeed worked and now all signs of illness were gone from the scarlet and blue bot's features. Everyone was cheering, laughing, clapping and smiling at the Prime, happy to see him recovered and standing tall once again.

"Please," my bot said humbly, "Reserve the hero's welcome for my physician and my scout."

Everyone applauded the two bots, but as they did so, I felt a familiar prickling sensation in my screwed-up arm.

 _Shit._

Understanding what the familiar prickling sensation meant, I immediately got up, thankful that no one was paying any attention, and scampered briskly over to my motorcycle. This is one of the many times that I am thankful that I am a paranoid bitch. Squirrels storing nuts for winter had nothing on me when it came to having supplies on hand in case a certain situation cropped up.

Grabbing a much smaller first aid kit from one of my saddle bags, I made sure that no one was watching before busting ass down the hallway where I knew the bathrooms were located.

Crashing through the door, I made my way over to one of the sinks and began almost violently rifling through the kit, trying to find the items I needed. Meanwhile, two small red spots appeared on either side of my bandage, each growing slowly larger by the second.

Reaching over to briefly tug at the tan colored wrap in an attempt to loosen it, my fingers shook slightly as I looked for a sterilized needle and bottle of my usual injection fluids. The rest of the supplies like a bandage and cream and whatnot could wait. Meanwhile, the now untucked wrap began to unravel on its own, falling to the floor with a faintly wet slap and revealing my disgustingly warped arm to the world. Now no longer confined as it usually was, the fresh blood trails began to dribble out of both sides of the hole.

Finally, I managed to find what I was searching for, pulling out the small glass bottle and injection needle with one hand. With unnervingly practiced ease, the needle was filled with the required amount of fluid, poised above the desired vein, and then slid deep into my skin, the liquid now entering my bloodstream. A couple seconds or an hour could have passed, but I was too drained to even register or care. Pun not intended.

The pain that accompanied the bleeding was present but I paid it no mind. I had fortunately, or unfortunately, gotten accustomed to it. The drying blood coating my arm, however, was another problem. Most people don't know this but in large quantities, a woman's blood stinks much worse than a guys'. And I had bled a lot. I didn't even need to use my nose to smell the metallic scent of blood in the air. And there was even a lovely new spot on my shirt near my right armpit.

 _Great, just great_ , I thought, grabbing a wad of gauze from my kit and sitting down on the floor much to the delight of my shaky legs. Stuffing the annoying white gauze into either side of the hole of my crappy limb, I sat back and thought for a while, waiting for the bleeding to officially stop.

It had been a miracle that no one had been around to see my arm start to bleed. I could just imagine how disastrous that episode would have been. Everyone would start asking questions, ones that I did not want to answer. And when they got their answers, they would all look at me with sadness and pity and say "I'm so sorry." That was exactly what I hated the most when I told people what had happened. Those reactions and how they treated me afterwards like I was not capable of doing stuff on my own anymore or I had the plague or something. It absolutely pissed me off.

Shifting a bit so as to get more comfortable, a soft metallic tinkle drew my attention downwards. It was the dog-tags that I liked to wear every so often. Scooping them up with my left hand, I examined the little military ID tags. After years of looking them over, I already knew what they said but the familiar action still felt comforting. The silver chain they hung from now showed slights signs of wear and tear, the metal slightly dulled from years of being worn. The tags themselves were still in good shape, and I found myself tracing the familiar words and numbers.

 **Bellerose**

 **Raoul A.**

 **501–37–2376**

 **O Neg**

 **No Preference**

"Knowing you, you'd just tell me that that they just do it because they care, eh Raoul?" I asked no one in particular, my heart clenching at the thought of the long dead man. I still remember that moment when he had given it to me.

—Flashback—

The gun had just gone off, and I was screaming. I didn't know if Raoul was alive. Neither the gunman nor my beloved guardian were moving. Not even considering my next actions, I skidded over to their side, and with some effort, managed to push the smelly masked man off Raoul. I swear my tiny heart nearly stopped until I realized that the dark-haired man was still breathing, albeit barely.

"Raoul," I called shaking the man, not noticing how much blood I was getting on me. "Raoul! Raoul, get up!"

His eyes fluttered open but it seemed to take him awhile to focus on me.

"Hey…dove," he greeted weakly before coughing up a lot more blood than last time, the force of his hacking shaking his entire frame. Even with my meager medical knowledge, I could see that he was having trouble breathing.

"Raoul," I sobbed.

"Shhh…don't cry," he said softly, reaching out with one of his large hands and wiping away my tears. "Don't cry, little dove."

In the distance, we could hear the faint wail of sirens; someone must have finally called the police; hopefully they'd get here in time.

"But Raoul, I'm scared," I whispered. "What if those men come back or if there's more of them out here?"

"Aria," he said. "I know your scared but—" he coughed some more though it wasn't as bad as the previous time, but that somehow didn't make me feel better. "—you need to remember that there are both good and bad people in this world. Don't look at these guys and think that the rest of the world is like that. Not everyone acts like these men did today."

"But how do I know if they aren't like these guys?" I asked, watching as the kind man slowly reached up and took something from around his neck.

He smiled softly his unfocused eyes twinkling, pushing whatever was clutched in his hand into mine. "You've got to have faith, little dove. Faith and trust. Promise me you'll remember that."

I hadn't understood what he had meant then but I promised him anyways. "I promise."

He smiled one last time before shutting his eyes and moving no more.

—Flashback End—

That day had changed everything for me. I became more guarded and careful, and I laughed and smiled a lot less than I used to, too. It was like a blast of icy cold wind to the face after just leaving a warm home; and the cold was only going to get worse. When I struck out on my own and left home at the age of nine, my trust and faith in humanity declined dramatically as I scavenged, fought, and survived on the streets. No one could say I was cute little Aria, the spoiled rich girl, anymore. No, that little girl had died a long time ago. Now, I was just Aria Slade-Cage, cold, emotionless, secretive, and a force of nature to be reckoned with all on her own; in other words: the Dark Phoenix herself. No one messed with me unless they wanted to deliberately pick a fight with one of the most feared women in the underground.

But once again, it seemed fate—that fickle little bitch—had decided to shake things up once more by adding Optimus Prime to the mix. As soon as I had met the alien leader, he had begun chipping away at my walls—which I had gotten disturbingly good at building up over the years—without me even noticing at first. And now my mask was starting to crack too as my emotional walls got weaker and weaker. I could probably build them both back up no problem, but the question now was: Did I want to shut Optimus out?

Sighing, I shakily got to my feet and made my way over to my open kit on the counter near the sinks. Mindlessly, I went through the usual motions of inspecting and cleaning the wound before setting about wrapping my arm again and cleaning up the mess I had made, doing what I could to cover up or remove the unwanted spots on my clothes.

Honestly, I didn't really need time to think about it as I already knew my answer to that question; I was just stalling. In a way (now that I considered the situation a bit), it was sort of inevitable that I come to trust my guardian Optimus Prime. He was just always _there_. He never forced me to do something I did not want to and understood the subtleties of when to say something and when not to. And he actually asked about my welfare out of genuine concern, not because it was required by social etiquette.

Those were definitely all rather promising marks in his favor if you asked me.

With the bathroom now clean of any evidence of my little 'injury', I headed out the door, turning off the light behind me as I left, fully intent on heading back to Optimus' side to keep an eye on him.

After today's events and these new revelations, I wasn't going to let him out of my sight anytime soon if I could help it.

 _Get ready, Prime_ , I thought as I walked down the hall, _because I'm gonna be glued to your side like a barnacle for the next couple of days_.

* * *

—Later, Ratchet's POV—

Walking quietly down the halls of base, the red and white Autobot medic headed towards the medical bay to check up on the welfare of his patient, whom he had confined to the medbay for overnight observation. He did not encounter any of the other Autobots but that was no surprise considering it must have been somewhere around midnight. As a result, the halls and medbay were dimly lit but that was no problem for him since he knew the layout of them like the back of his servo.

Entering his usual workspace, Ratchet found that all was quiet. Even when he turned on a few more lights, his patient did not stir. Optimus was still in deep recharge, resting peacefully. Checking his Prime over carefully, the medic was pleased to find that no irregularities had occurred while he had been in recharge. At this rate, Optimus would likely be able to recharge in his own berth at the end of today's cycle.

But as he was checking his patient's vitals, the ever observant medic noticed something unusual out of the corner of his optic. A glint of gold. Looking over, Ratchet had to suppress a chuckle, smiling softly at the sight before him.

Nestled in the juncture between Optimus' neck cables and shoulder, a certain blonde-haired femme laid there, curled up and fast asleep. Her knees were drawn up to her chassis in what was no doubt a rather uncomfortable resting position as her helm rested back on the exact spot where the Prime's shoulder met his neck cables. She almost blended in with her guardian's paint job with her dark blue pants and red shirt, had it not have been for her gold hair—some of which now obscured her face from view—and pale skin, which seemed paler than usual but that could have been a trick of the dim light. Aria barely moved as she recharged, the slow rise and fall of her chassis and occasional twitch the only indicator that the human femme was still online.

Turning back to the task at hand, Ratchet had honestly expected the human femme to go home with the other humans when they had left. But apparently, she had decided to stick around for some reason.

Of course, the old medic wasn't blind either; he had noticed how worried she had seemed when Optimus was infected; he had seen how his leader and the quiet femme had grown gradually closer over the weeks since their first meeting and he was quite pleased with the results. He did not know how she had done it but Optimus seemed more open with the others now if only a little more. Sure, he knew quite well that getting attached to such a short-lived race of beings was not ideal but seeing how Aria had managed to somehow worm her way towards Optimus' spark, brought some joy to the old medic.

Ever since the war had begun, his old friend had felt the need to shut his emotions away in front of others in attempts to seem strong for his troops. He rarely laughed or smiled anymore like he used to before he became a Prime. And when the war began, those smiles and laughs became almost nonexistent. Until, he met Aria. Whether that femme knew it or not, she was a miracle worker. Getting the Prime's lip plates to so much as twitch nowadays was a feat in itself to which he was thankful to the femme for.

Double checking that everything was in order, Ratchet glanced once more at the endearing image before him before turning away and heading back to his own room and berth, mentally reminding himself to look into that little side project of his more later.

* * *

Huzzah! The chapter is done! I hope you lot enjoyed learning more about Aria and her past. I certainly had fun doing so.

And thank you to all who reviewed, favorited and followed. You are amazingly wonderful and have kept the review monster from completely devouring me. Please continue to Review, fav, and follow, I do look at some of your guys stories and profiles when I'm getting antsy.

Have a lovely day folks! ;)


	16. To Cling or Not to Cling

Hullo Folks! How's it going? Welcome to another chapter of IWaLR. Also Happy _really_ late Birthday Marine Corps! Ooorah! (Nov. 10th 1775)

And I hope you all had an excellent Thanksgiving. I made my first ever apple pie and it turned out quite good. Seriously, between just me and my mom, it was gone ridiculously fast. Oh and I was turned into Chef Crybaby while I was helping with dinner. Who knew that chopping onions could be such a terribly sad business? LOL :P

Anyways, this chappie is a bit short as I didn't know what to do for it really but I promise the next chapter will be better.

Now on with the show!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime or any other recognizable works. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 16: To Cling or Not to Cling**

Watching the entire procedure like a hawk, I observed as Optimus stood still, letting the medic perform whatever scans needed to be done to ensure that my guardian did indeed have a clean bill of health.

Never once did my grey eyes waver from his frame.

It had been seven days since that incident that had nearly taken the life of my guardian. And in that time period, I had rarely let the Autobot leader out of my sight. If I wasn't at school or working in my mechanics shop, I was on base keeping an eye on Optimus. Maybe it seemed a little silly for me to do so, but I wanted to make sure that he was alright, if only for my own peace of mind.

Taking out some kind of giant flashlight and pointing it in the red and blue leaders right optic—the one that had gotten infected first—Ratchet then proceeded to have his patient "follow the light." Not the greatest choice of words in my opinion but oh well; Ratchet was the medic here, not me.

Anyways, I don't think anyone on base really noticed my stalker-ish/helicopter mom behavior as I tried to be as subtle as possible. If they did though, they didn't say anything. And for the most part, I just kept out of every one's way, sitting in the darkest corners of the main room and perching on the not-as-frequently-used catwalks. But no matter where I decided to hole up, I still had an excellent view of Optimus' rather large frame. I guess you could say that it was my way of staying close but still trying to distance myself.

And could you blame me? I was still trying to get over the fact that after all these years of self-induced social isolation; someone had managed to penetrate my defenses without me even realizing it at first. In fact, while I had resolved to let this go and see where this new bond would take me, the more overly-skeptical and cautious part of me was still predictably wary. But I guess for now only time would tell.

Down below, I could hear Ratchet make a couple pleased sounds and mumbles as Optimus apparently passed whatever medical test he had cooked up.

"I wouldn't advise anything strenuous, Optimus, but it appears that your systems have fully recovered from the Cybonic plague."

As pleased as I was to hear that news, my entire frame stiffened at the mention of the virus, and I briefly noted how Optimus seemed to stand a little straighter at its mention, too.

 _Blunt, thy name is Ratchet._

With the press of a button, the odd chamber-like medical tube-thingy released the Prime.

Even to my untrained medical eye, he certainly did seem better as he fluidly stepped off the dais-like structure he stood on. There were no signs of a concealed limp as he walked and his electric-blue optics did not dilate in pain even once. If Optimus was feeling unwell in the slightest right now, he certainly did a good job of hiding it.

Still, like the humble leader I knew him to be, Optimus' next words did not surprise me in the slightest. "Thanks to your medical expertise, old friend."

Inwardly, I smirked a bit. Of all the beings I had had the pleasure of meeting, I think only Optimus was the only one who exemplified at being the very definition of a perfect leader. He always seemed to know what to say and when to say it.

Which is why Ratchet's reply to the compliment didn't surprise me much either, since if there was one thing I knew about teams like this one, it was that they were always a reflection of its leadership.

"It was your scout who braved unknown territory to locate the cure," the older mech said, the duo glancing over at said scout who was watching the proceedings with Arcee.

:{ _It wasn't that big of a deal, really_ }: the yellow and black mech beeped quickly, seeming almost embarrassed by all the attention he was getting as he waved his servos frantically in front of him.

Meanwhile, his teammate seemed rather amused by his reactions as she said in her usual dry tone, "Lucky for us, Megatron was still alive."

Bumblebee looked at her oddly for that. :{ _Did you seriously just say that?_ }: he said.

"Yeah, I actually said that," the blue femme said, grimacing and sounding as equally perturbed by her own words as the scout was.

Turning back to the Prime, Ratchet steered the conversation back on track. "What matters is that you are on the mend, Optimus," he said. "While Megatron—"

:{ _We don't really know what happened to him though!_ }: Bee bleeped, garnering a glare from the medic for his interruption.

Arcee nodded grimly. "He's right," she affirmed as the scout left the room to join the others most likely. "Did my best to finish Megatron's story—" an almost haunted look now came to adorn her features. "—just couldn't stick around long enough to see how it ended." Shaking her head, the Autobot femme left the room, leaving just Ratchet, Optimus and myself to fill the morbid silence she had left behind.

I was thankful that the conversation had been left at that though. While I did not know the whole story, I had learned through experience that matters concerning Megatron were always difficult for Optimus, even if he did not choose to show it. Now we had just steered ourselves into dangerous waters and I don't think anyone aside from myself had realized it.

Even by just looking at the unyielding mask on my guardian's features, I could practically see the turbulent storm of emotions and thoughts raging inside of his mind.

Some near-nonexistent social part of me told me that I should talk to go him. But the problem was: what would I say?

If it wasn't already apparent, I'm not exactly social butterfly of the year here, so I had absolutely zero ideas on how to, well…be a friend, I guess. Sure, I was good at manipulating people into doing what I wanted, but unlike those instances, I had no angle to work here or endgame in mind.

Sighing softly, I glanced down at my guardian, who was now standing alone in the empty medical bay, and shook my head in slight irritation.

 _Clueless, thy name is Aria._

* * *

—Night, Dream—

 _The beings were fighting once again, clashing together in an epic battle like the Mechonis and the Bionis from Xenoblade. Ever since The Split, it was all these two titanic, godlike beings with tremendous and terrible power seemed to do. Of course, Life, the good and light one, did not wish to take up arms against Death, the destructive and dark one, but he had no choice. Where at first Death had discovered and sought to correct perceived flaws in the order of the universe, the Dark Being now had grown increasingly rapacious and destructive since he and Life had been split from each other. Unlike Life, who accepted the universe as it was, he wanted to devour the galaxy. Unable to let this happen, the ever-peaceful Life took up arms against Death, who was technically his twin brother, to prevent this from happening._

 _Of course, being split from the Original One, they both held equal amounts of power. Neither side was able to gain an advantage over the other. Where one brother would start to gain the upper hand, the other managed to turn the tides in his favor only for the tables to turn yet again, the scales never leaning in either side's favor for too long._

 _It was an endless cycle. And neither of the two super beings could win. Eons passed as the two titans continued to clash. The struggle between the forces of Creation and Destruction being an eternal one. It seemed as if this conflict would never end._

 _But then one fateful day, something happened. During a brief pause in the battle, Life took his own immense power and called into existence thirteen unique beings to help aid in the struggle and hopefully turn the tide once and for all. Each of these beings was more different from the last, each holding a distinctively different role in the aspects of nature._

 _Ultimately, through the combined efforts of the Thirteen and Life, the Unmaker stood no chance and was finally defeated, his inert form cast out into space. He was not dead per say, as immortal and powerful beings like he and his brother can never truly die, but Death had been dealt a serious blow that day and would likely remain in his weakened state for a very long time._

 _Meanwhile, with the influence of his brother seriously weakened and the scales of power tipped precariously in his favor, Life knew that he could not remain. He would upset the cosmic balance if he were to do so. And so following the defeat of his brother, Light merged himself with a core of a planet, giving life to a future of a race of beings similar to himself and the Thirteen through the artifact he had created in the beginning to counter Death._

 _Standing proud and tall, the Thirteen began to shape this new world, content with this new age of peace now that the Dark One was gone._

 _But little did the Thirteen know that they had already been tainted by Death…_

* * *

—Next Day, School—

Walking through the halls of the torture ground they called high school, I walked through the crowds unimpeded.

Today, I had a lot of people staring at me. Of course, that wasn't any surprise as I had decided to forgo my usual combo of bare minimum foundation, concealer, and blush, revealing my rather scarred features. Most of the people I met in the hallways shrank back slightly too, the scars on my face making me a tad more intimidating than my typical expression.

Honestly though, I didn't give much of a damn. Even the sometimes hurtful rumors that flew about the campus about how I got them didn't so much as elicit a single tear. In fact, I found them quite amusing as they grew more absurd and blown out of proportion as the years passed; once I even heard a severely misinformed freshman telling one of my fellow seniors that the large, claw-like slashes across my face had come from the time I had gotten in a fight with, and beaten, a small army of psycho assassin ninja's and a dragon. I had to laugh at that one.

Anyways, instead of correcting people, I just let them be, even encouraging the overactive imaginations of a few with a few well-placed nudges here and there. None of them even had the faintest inkling of what had really happened, nor would they ever find out. For the moment, I was content to let them all keep guessing, amused by my nickname, 'Scar-face', which was given to me by the remainder of the high schooler population.

Head held high, I listened to the hushed buzz of whispers that followed me down the hall.

"Oh my god, what happened to her face?"

"Whoa."

"Someone got into a fight with Freddy Kruger."

"Those look like knife cuts."

"Is she suicidal?"

Snorting softly, I could not help but feel a tad exasperated with their cowardice. Why didn't any of them just come up and ask for bloody Pete's sake? Oh wait, its 'cause of how creepy I look. And it probably doesn't help that they all know I can deck any one of them in three seconds flat.

Secretly rolling my slate-grey eyes, I allowed myself to tune into the more ballsy comments that some of the more arrogant students verbalized.

"Scar-face."

"Emo freak."

"Bitch."

Another snort. I'd still heard better insults.

"Reject."

Okay, now I admit, that one stung a little. While it may have only been half true, it still struck a little close to home. All the same, I did not react to that jibe. There was absolutely no reason for me to do so at any rate. Their offensive comments and nasty remarks were merely the equivalent of rain hitting a windshield.

 _Besides…_

Internally smiling as I strolled into my first hour class, I seated myself at my usual desk in the back of the classroom and pulled my notebook from my bag, setting it on the desk in front of me, just as the bell rang.

 _Those fools have no idea what they're saying anyways._

* * *

—Later—

Catching the sloppily thrown punch with ease, I used the punk's forward momentum to throw him off balance, causing him to stumble before eventually landing on his ass.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't such a good idea going without that annoying face paste.

The punks' friend tried to tackle me from behind but before he could get a good grip, I flipped him off me, avoiding another swing from the first brat.

Apparently, the more muscle bound thugs take that as a challenge when you have more scars than them.

All around, I could hear the raucous shouting of my peers, no one voice indistinguishable from another.

Kicking idiot number one in the shin, I then proceeded to deliver a powerful elbow to dingbat number two's stomach, leaving him gagging in pain as he toppled over like his comrade.

So you're probably wondering something along the lines of "Okay? So what did Aria really do now to land herself in another fight?"

My answer: Nada.

Watching with feigned boredom, my eyes tracked all their movements as they struggled to get up.

…Okay, so maybe I might have said some mildly offensive things to a certain dweeb and his friend to basically say that they have bladders for brains, using a couple really big words when they accused me of being a slut. Of course, I don't think they really understood most of what I said, but they definitely got the gist of it. But hey, at least I can honestly say that I was not the one who swung first.

Still watching the feeble attempts of the two dipshit's to get up, I didn't realize that a new player had entered the ring until a pair of seriously muscled arms wrapped around me from behind.

Somehow managing to glance behind me, I nearly choked when I saw wall of muscle behind me. Holy shit that guy was huge! Is he on freaking steroids or something?!

Struggling anew in the muscle-bound freaks' grip, my mind went on autopilot, calculating a way out of this mess, preferably without dying.

Inhaling as much air as I could as the giant crushed me, I almost gagged when my poor nose was assaulted with the stench of dirt, sweat and god-awful BO. Seriously, had this guy ever heard of a shower before? Or at the very least, deodorant?

Eyes watering from the smell, I tried not to imagine how many germs I was likely putting in my mouth as I craned my neck over and bit down on the soft inside of the thugs' arm. Hard.

Immediately, dropped me like yesterday's trash, yelping in pain.

Is that blood in my mouth? Ew, gross.

Spitting out as much of the disgusting red stuff as I could, I let my reflexes take over as I ducked under the guys' powerful right hook and brought my black steel-toed boot right to his masculine bits.

And down he went.

Glancing about the crowd warily, I knew I needed to end this now before one of the teachers saw, since we were still technically on school grounds. I guess was just lucky enough that they decided to pick a fight with me outside of security camera range.

The other two, which I had ignored for a moment in favor of taking the third guy down, were now definitely getting up. One of them was holding their stomach a bit, looking pained, while the other limped a bit as they charged towards me.

My eyes narrowed.

It was time to end this.

Moving faster than I had ever done since the start of this little scrap, a couple lightning fast punches were thrown before the duo met the same fate as their friend with the compliments of my boots. Cruel, maybe, but in my experience, weaknesses are meant to be exploited; if they had wanted a 'fair' fight, they should not have gone looking for one with me.

Anyhow, it seemed like I had ended this fight just in time too because I could hear the shouts and demands of the school staff as they wrestled their way through the crowd. But I knew they wouldn't make it here in time to catch me; they never had and they never will.

Disappearing into the crowd as naturally as if I had been one of the spectators the entire time, I just had enough time to catch a glimpse of the principal, some security staff, a couple teachers and the school's police officer before I lost sight of them in the crowd, which I think is a pretty decent trick considering how tall I am.

Under normal circumstances, maybe I should have been afraid that someone had taken a picture or videotaped the fight, but I wasn't. People knew not to mess with me and that included mentioning anything that would damage my reputation; nobody wanted me as an enemy.

Thinking on it, maybe that made me a bit of a bully, and I would not deny it if someone were to straight up accuse me of it. But, I guess that's what happens when you grow up too fast and try to act otherwise.

* * *

—Later—

"Seriously, Aria? Another fight?" Jack said, raising a dark eyebrow as he sat next to me on the ground, lunch tray in hand. It was lunchtime and all the other students at our school were either packed inside the noisy cafeteria or sitting outside like Jack and I.

I raised my own respective brow right back at him. "Whatever are you talking about?" I asked, feigning innocence.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't play innocent with me, sis. The whole school is talking about it."

I shrugged, biting into my sweet red apple. I wasn't going to deny it. "What's there to talk about? The guy tried to hit me, so I hit him back. He started something he couldn't finish, so I did him a favor. End of story."

He gave me 'the look.'

It was pretty feeble, but I figured that I should entertain him anyways.

"Okay so he called me a whore—which you know I hate—so I used some big words to describe that empty head of his. Turns out that he did have some form of a pea-sized brain—albeit small—up there in that thick skull of his 'cuz the next thing I know he's taking a swing as me while my back is turned, so I return the favor. Only I didn't miss so spectacularly."

'The look' did not waver.

"Unfortunately that set off a string of events, and one thing led to another, and his equally stupid friends decided to try and gang up on me. So I did us all a favor and taught them a lesson in manners by beating them into the ground."

Sighing exasperatedly, Jack rolled his eyes, shoving a tatertot into his mouth. "The things you get into, Aria."

A smirk tweaked the corner of my lips, but I didn't say anything else as I took another bite out of my apple.

* * *

—Aria's Shop, Later—

Turning another page of William Shakespeare's _The Taming of the Shrew_ , I allowed my usually busy mind to slip into a relaxed state of being. Of course it had been kind of difficult at first considering a chunk of me wanted nothing more than to just not open my shop up at all and just go to base. However, before I could even attempt to do so, the other, more responsible part of me reminded me that I still had another thirty minutes to go before I could officially close shop and do just that.

Somehow though, I had managed and had devoted my restless energy towards fixing up other people's cars, balancing the checkbooks, going through some of my paperwork, and working on a couple of my pet projects too. None of it was too hard, but at least it kept me busy for a while.

That is, until I had run out of things to do and had been left bored and restless, which is never a good combination in my book.

I had tried focusing on other matters such as the weird chess move post card and MECH, but those had lost their allure when I realized that until I had more information, there wasn't much I could do.

So now here I am, reading a ridiculous play about a couple people's troubled and insane love-lives where a happy couple can't marry because they need the consent of the bride-to-be's father. It was kinda stupid if you asked me. I mean if it's your love life, why should anyone else's opinion matter? Mind you, I have zero dating experience, but still, if you ask me, permission is highly overrated, as is love, but I can't exactly comment on that either.

Anyways, I had just gotten to the part where the character, Lucentio, finally woos the youngest daughter, Bianca, with a Latin translation that declares his love, when I heard the rumble of a familiar Peterbilt semi approaching.

"So I see Ratchet finally let you out of— What the hell happened to you?" I exclaimed, once I managed to get a good look at him as he came to a stop in front of me.

Parts of his red and blue frame were dented at varying degrees while still further pieces were warped and charred, almost melted-looking in one area. Numerous new scuffs and scratches now joined the plethora of other ones he already had on his frame. Altogether, he looked like he'd gone through another war zone, except this time he had managed to run through a forest fire too.

I repeated that last part aloud and watched as, with a rather tired sigh, the bot sank lower on the axels of his alt-mode.

"It is a long story, Aria," he said sounding worn down.

Raising a single golden brow and giving him a unimpressed look that said 'Really?', I set down my book on a nearby surface and got to my feet. "Uh-huh, well I've got time and now you do to. Cancel whatever dates you've got planned with Fowler or Ratchet because you're gonna sit here and tell me exactly what happened while I fix you up. And I don't want to hear any excuses from you on this matter because it is nonnegotiable, understand?"

"I—," he began, only for me to cut him off.

" _Okay_ , Prime?" I asked sternly, in a no-nonsense tone.

He sighed defeatedly. "Very well."

Smirking triumphantly, I said, "Okay then, let me get the stuff I need, and I'll be right back. _Do not_ under any circumstances go anywhere in the meantime. I do not care if even Megatron himself is standing right around the corner, waiting to brutally axe-murder you. You are not to move from your current position at all. Understand?"

"Understood."

Satisfied with his answer, I turned on my heel and disappeared into the depths of my shop.

* * *

—Optimus' POV—

Watching as she disappeared into the depths of her mechanics shop, Optimus knew that he could have easily objected to his charge's previous demands. But he hadn't.

Maybe it was the fact that he knew refusing her was like trying to prevent the sun from rising, or the fact that he was too tired from today's exploits to really put up much of a fight. Whatever the case, he just couldn't bring himself to refuse her demands.

So, patiently, he waited as she fetched what she needed from somewhere further inside the shop. He didn't have to wait long as she returned carrying a couple towels, a few canisters of red and blue paint that matched his color scheme perfectly, some assorted paintbrushes and a few other tools he could not make out that were all stuffed into a blue bucket that she held in one hand.

"Okay, here's the deal: you're going to get a bath and make over. In exchange, you're gonna talk and explain exactly what happened that caused you to end up like this. Capiche?" she said, setting all the stuff down only a yard or two away from his alt-mode.

It was only then, as she stood there before him, that he noticed something off about her, but he couldn't identify what exactly. It certainly wasn't her ratty attire or the way she held herself, so what could…?

Then he saw it. Her face. It was all scratched up. But these weren't fresh cuts, he noted. They were older. He wasn't sure why he hadn't noticed it until now, but the sight was astonishing to see. Pale pink marks crisscrossed her features in a patchwork of frenzied lines. But the largest of the markings and the most gruesome looked almost like a seeker had taken their clawed digits and raked them diagonally across her left optic and down her faceplates, even one of them running horizontally over her nose, almost as if from a failed attempt to scratch out her optic. Now that was not a pleasant thought.

Realizing that he still hadn't answered her, Optimus mentally shook himself. "That sounds agreeable."

Pausing only for a moment to steel himself, he slowly began to retell the events of their adventures in the Arctic as Aria beat out the dents in his frame—much to his relief—as well as later wash, repaint, and even waxed him. By the time he had concluded his tale with Miko declaring that they were having an impromptu party to celebrate both his and Bumblebee's recovery (and his subsequent escape from base before the festivities began), Optimus was fairly sure that his entire frame gleamed in the fading light of the setting sun.

"Bloody hell, Optimus," she said exasperatedly. "The trouble you get into while I'm not on base. We really need to work on that."

Smiling a bit at Aria's joke, though she could not see it, Optimus admitted to himself that he felt better than he had in years. A little tired, maybe, but definitely lighter, and he didn't think it was because she had wiped all that annoying dust from his frame.

Feeling it prudent to thank her, he said politely, meaning every word he uttered, "Thank you Aria for doing all this for me. You really did not have to but I truly appreciate your efforts all the same."

Almost unconsciously it seemed, a small smile stretched her lips upon hearing his words as she said, "It's no problem, big guy. I mean, it's the least I could do for a…a friend."

* * *

—Aria's POV—

 _Dammit! You stupid bitch! What were you thinking saying something like that?_ I screamed at myself from inside my head as other mental alarms screeched and blared. I honestly hadn't meant to call him a friend like that. But the word had just sorta…slipped out, I guess.

"I-I mean if you to be friends or, um− that is if you want to consider us friends. I-I mean if you don't want to I mean that's cool, but if—"

Stumbling and stammering over my sentences worse than Jack does when confronted with his crush, I could feel as heat started to flood into my cheeks, turning them a lovely— _not_ —shade of pink with my embarrassed stuttering.

 _Stop talking, you idiot, just stop taking now_.

But I couldn't, I just kept digging myself deeper into the ditch.

"Aria," Optimus suddenly cut in, his deep baritone voice silencing my rambling and probably saving me from embarrassing myself further.

"Yes?" I managed to squeak, trying to fight down my blush.

 _Gods, what is wrong with me?! You dolt! You absolute imbecile! You—_

"I would be honored if we could consider each other friends."

That put a cork in my gob, succinctly shutting me up.

* * *

—Optimus' POV—

While he would likely never admit it aloud to her, his usually composed charge became rather amusing when she was flustered. That's not to say that she wasn't amusing at all but simply that it was interesting to see this new side of her. She was typically so cool and collected that this break in character was fascinating to say the least.

"Aria, would you like me to take you to base or would you like to join me on a short drive around town?" he queried, secretly hoping she'd say yes as he quite enjoyed her company.

The golden-haired girl's eyes lit up. "The latter, please. I'm in no mood for one of resident wild child's screech-a-thons today. Just let me put this stuff away and close up the shop before we go."

"Of course," he acquiesced, watching her movements as she swiftly began to clean up, picking up soaked towels, empty paint cans, and other such items.

As she did that, Optimus quietly brooded to himself on the best possible way to broach the topic he wanted to discuss with her. That was the hard part about talking with his charge; her reactions were so unpredictable. He never knew if he should take the direct approach or be more subtle. In a sense, it was like a chemist throwing various mixtures together at random and seeming what they would do.

Still, he needed to ask be—

"Okay, I'm done," Aria's voice suddenly interrupted from right next to his passenger side door. Opening it, he allowed her to climb in fastening the seatbelt across her as she talked. "Sorry I took so long, Optimus, but I needed to throw those paint-stained clothes into the laundry. I didn't want to get them all over your interior."

"That is quite alright, Aria," he soothed, pulling away from her shop and driving down the street.

Nothing else was said, both of them content to sit in mutual sustained silence for a while.

* * *

—Later—

"Aria, are you alright?"

She blinked a couple times as if snapping out of a daze. "Huh? Why would you think that something's wrong?"

The Prime vented softly, his alt-mode's air conditioning units emitting a slight gust of wind as he did so. "You have been different as of late. More…" he trailed off, searching for an appropriate word to describe Aria's recent behavior. "... _cautious_ as of late since the… _incident_."

He did not name the virus that had almost taken his life. Even before he completely lost consciousness, Optimus could still recall the unsettling sensations of the virus coursing through his energon streams, making its way to his spark. The burning sensation he had felt when the infected energon had come into contact with his optic, signifying the beginning of the frankly terrifying process. Then the feeling of being weak and unusually unstable that had taken over next, distorting his perception of his perception of his surroundings. The world had rocked and twirled in dizzying patterns, darkening and reminding him of the uncomfortable burning flare coming from the area near his right optic. All too soon it seemed, all of his senses became useless, his vision swimming as it became more difficult to keep his optics online. His frame had heated uncomfortably with fever before cooling exponentially.

He had heard the others' voices but they seemed far away and distorted until they were warped beyond recognition. And when he had finally slipped into a fitful recharge, he felt as though he was being dragging under. Under what or by whom, he did not know but what he did know is that if he didn't fight, something told him that he wouldn't be able come back. So, weakly, he had fought for what felt like hours, struggling to stay afloat in the current that was pulling him down.

It wasn't until he had just about given in that something had penetrated the heated haze surrounding his mind, soothing the pain he felt. That was the part that unsettled him the most; the fact that he had almost given up.

And apparently during that episode, his mettle hadn't been the only thing that was shaken. Ever since the incident, Aria's behavior had changed slightly. Not obviously enough to garner the attention of the others, but enough to be concerning for him considering he was her guardian.

Where once she would at least just stand near the other children while they played on base, she now would seclude herself in a dark corner, now far away from anything else and only speaking when spoken to. Yet the odd thing was, while she distanced herself from the others, she still seemed to want to stay close, especially to him. Maybe he was just imagining things but whenever she was on base—and she had been coming there a lot more than she usually did in the past—he could always glance around and locate her sitting somewhere nearby…where she had a clear view of him and vice versa. In a sense, she had become like his own personal shadow of sorts. And while he personally did not mind her actions, her sudden change in behavior was still troubling.

"Aria, will you please tell me what is wrong?" he finally asked in a gentle tone when she did not immediately reply.

As if a heavy burden had suddenly been placed on her shoulders, Aria sighed tiredly. Her grey eyes seemed to darken gaining a faraway look that made the remainder of the girls' features age drastically.

"I'm sorry Optimus," she began slowly speaking barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean for my actions to insult you if that's the case. It-it's just I don't want to go through that experience again," she murmured quietly, hugging her knees to her chest. "I can't, no _won't_ , let someone in again only to lose them to death soon after."

Upon hearing those words, his spark clenched a little in guilt and almost reflexively, he drew the seatbelt around her a little tighter as if trying to hug her and turned on his heaters in attempts to comfort the obviously grief-stricken girl. But she didn't seem to feel it as she continued to talk in an uncharacteristically robotic tone.

"When I saw you just lying there on the medical berth after Ratchet had heaved you back through the ground bridge…and seeing how _sick_ you looked…It just brought back so many bad memories and I couldn't help but remember that time before when I could do nothing but watch as someone I knew and cared about died right there in front of me." She paused, taking in a shaky breath to steady herself. "And I don't want to see that happen ever again, Optimus. Just standing there, helplessly, watching and waiting for a miracle of some kind to happen while I lounge on my ass doing nothing." He could feel as her sharp little fingernails dug slightly into the leather of his seats, as he just barely made out her next words. "I won't lose you like I lost Raoul."

The ache in his spark increased, and Optimus could almost imagine somebot just reaching into his sparkchamber, wrapping their digits around his core and just squeezing it in a vice-like grip. He knew all too well the pain of losing friends and comrades and could easily relate to what this girl felt, especially when it came to watching others perish right before his optics.

As if reading his processor, the girl said lowly, "Maybe I'm overreacting a bit. I mean, you and the others are going through a war so I don't really have room to complain. Still…" she trailed off, lost in thought.

Looking back on it, part of her standoffish demeanor now made sense. Whoever this 'Raoul' character had been, he had obviously meant something to his charge, and subsequently his death had had a great impact on her. Therefore, when he had died, Aria had not reacted like most people would have and instead closed herself and her emotions off from others in order to protect herself. It made sense to him though he knew that it wasn't the full story either.

Anyways, deciding that this issue required a different approach, Optimus drove them over to a nearby cliff side, unfastening the seatbelts and opening his door in a silent request for her to get out. Obediently, the girl did so though he did not get a chance to gauge her reaction as to what she thought of his actions. As soon as the blonde-haired girl was clear, the Autobot leader transformed into his bipedal mode, thankful that the sun had long since sunk below the horizon.

Wordlessly, he scooped up his charge in the palm of his servo and brought her close to his face, wanting her to look him fully in the optics for what he had to say next. "Aria, I apologize if this experience has brought back bad memories for you. That was never my intention. I am not mad at you if that was the impression I gave you. Given the circumstances, your actions were completely justified. I am merely concern for your welfare."

He vented slightly. Why was this so difficult to put into words?

"If there is one thing I have learned during this war, it is that losing someone close to you is never easy. And while I do not know what exactly happened to you, I do understand the pain you feel." _More than you think._ "But I also know that distancing yourself from others in order to minimize that ache is never a wise decision."

Ever so carefully, he brought up his one of his large digits and gently brushed aside a stray strand of hair from her face, and tucking it behind her audial so that he could see her features better.

"So Aria, I stand by my previous statement. While I may not be privy to all of your secrets, I still wish for you to know that you can confide in me no matter what. Please do not cut yourself from contact with others. If not for your benefit, then for my own."

* * *

—Aria's POV—

Aria looked up at the gentle giant before her. He always seemed to know what to say. That was what made him Optimus Prime.

She knew she could never guarantee that he would make it through this war. No one could. Nevertheless, she would do her damndest because one way or another she was determined not to lose him.

But in the meantime, she would agree to his demands. Maybe he had a point.

"Okay."

And that was the end of that.

Little did he know that aside from refreshing his paint-job, Aria had secretly added an additional work to his paint, something that would hopefully help him in the future when she was not there to do so herself.

* * *

Okay, so I'll admit that this wasn't my best work but I was grasping at straws here. I couldn't think of much here.

Anyways, I promise the next chapter will be much better.

Until then, review, favorite and follow me and my story. AND PLEASE CHECK OUT AND VOTE ON MY POLLS! IT IS IMPORTANT THAT YOU DO!

Last but not least, I will be implementing a 5-Review policy. Until I get a total of 5 reviews for this chapter, you will not get the next one. So please review for my sake cuz the review monster will devour me. I don't care if these reviews consist of only one or two words total but please review.

Toodles.


	17. Dimensional Trouble

Merry late Xmas people and happy New Years Eve! Hope you enjoyed your day! I certainly did.

Thank you to all who reviewed such as **AeronwenM** , **Sfrizz5959** , **X Valkyrie Prime X** , **Guest 1** , **Akrisakara** , **Guest 2** , **Nika n h** , **Guest 3** , **Lily X**! Pat yourselves on the back for me wouldya? Seriously, you guys are the best. I am really thankful that you guys took the time out of your day to do so.

Anyways, sorry if I didn't update as fast as everyone would have liked. I got sick the Thursday before last Thursday and ended up being in general misery all the way into Monday. Then it was finals week the rest of the way. Oh joy. Note sarcasm. And after that, the worst thing imaginable happened: I couldn't update! For some reason they would not accept this document! Anyways, at least now it's fixed and you all will be happy to know that I am already working on the next chapter.

Now on with the show! Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime in any way, shape or form. And that also applies to any other recognizable works that are found in this glorious chapter done by yours truly.

* * *

 **Chapter 17: Dimensional Trouble**

-{ **Are you still coming over for fall break?** }- came a young girl's voice from the other end of the phone line.

The corners of my lips twitched a little. "Yes Izzy," I assured the girl, scanning the road for any signs of my guardian. "I promised you didn't I?"

I could almost imagine the girl on the other end blushing bashfully. -{ **I know that, but I just wanted to be sure.** }-

"Why? You got a crush or something you don't want me to see?" I teased.

-{ **N-no!** }-

I chuckled softly, finally catching sight of a familiar form at the far end of the worn-looking street. "Relax, Izzy. I was just teasing. Anyways, I have to go. My ride's here."

-{ **Bye! Have fun on your date with your boyfriend!** }- the little girl sang cheerily.

"He's not my—!"

But it was too late. She had already hung up.

"Damn brat," I grumbled half-heartedly, snapping my phone shut, and waiting as Optimus came to a halt before me.

"Hey Optimus," I greeted as the passenger side door swung open.

"Hello, Aria," he replied, seatbelt moving forward to fasten me in once I had gotten comfortable. "How was your day?"

I shrugged. "Eh, it could be better; it could be worse."

* * *

—Base—

For lack of a better word, base was rather quiet. Ever since Megatron's resurrection, there had been a lull in Decepticon activity. And with no immediate Decepticon threats popping up on the radar, all the bots had taken to doing menial work, like scouting for energon, while we waited for the con's next move.

Which leads me to my current activity. All the bots were busy doing whatever on base, so the kids and I had gathered in the living area and were now perched on the various couches and armchairs around a small coffee table, drawing whatever or doing homework. Even Miko, the resident wild-child and noisemaker, was unusually quiet, drawing childish sketches of the bots on her little coloring pad. I was similarly drawing on my own pad of sketch paper, illustrating the images from my dreams in full—almost disturbingly so—detail.

"Hey, Aria," came Rafael's timid voice from my left.

"What's up Raf?" I asked, looking up from my sketchbook to look at the kid while discreetly trying to hide my drawings from view. I did not need him wondering about my artwork just yet.

"I was just wondering if you were going to the homecoming dance next weekend?" the boy asked me out of the blue, pushing his glasses back up to their original place out of nervous habit.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I didn't fail to catch how the other two to halted briefly in their endeavors and glanced curiously in my direction, interested to hear my reply. _Nosy kids, almost worse than Nancy Drew and the Scooby-Doo Mystery Crew_.

Closing the cover of my sketchpad, I shook my head from side to side. "Nah, I went my freshman year and decided after that that I was better off having an 'Anti-Homecoming' party with my insanity," I stated as bluntly as ever. "Don't get me wrong. It's still a great experience to have, just maybe not at Jasper High." I paused before asking the kid carefully. "Are you going, Raf?"

He shook his head, the tips of his gravity-defying hair swaying a bit. "No, I was going to, but I have no one to go with and by the time I probably do get a date, the price for the tickets will be too high."

"I hear ya," I said, nodding.

"Are you two going?" the short genius asked the others after a moment of hesitation.

Miko gave a rather unladylike snort, rolling her brown eyes. "Nah, not worth my time. I'd rather go dune-bashing with Bulkhead," she said haughtily, going back to her scribbles.

I rolled my eyes. "That or you're grounded, and you just don't want to admit it," I muttered.

Raf turned to Jack. "What about you?" he asked the raven-haired teen.

My younger brother figure shook his head. "I was going to go but decided against it."

A snort escaped me and I couldn't help but say, "Translation: he got rejected by Sierra and is too embarrassed to trip over his two left feet."

He glared at me. "That's not what happened. Vince got in the way and asked her before I could."

I raised a brow; a Cheshire Cat grin in place, and my eyes glittering mischievously. "You sure about that? Because I'm pretty sure that's not what I saw."

Jack choked, a rosy pink color filling his cheeks. "Y-you were there?"

A grin formed on my lips. "Yep," I said, popping the 'p'. "And it was pretty entertaining." I snickered a little. "Almost wish I had brought some popcorn. You guys should have seen it. He was all stuttering and bl—"

Jack slapped a hand over my mouth, muffling the rest of my words.

"Not. Another. Word."

I smirked before nodding, watching him carefully remove his hand from my lips before muttering loudly enough for them to hear, "Rejected."

"Aria!"

Everyone laughed at Jack's mortified face, only quieting down when Ratchet yelled at us to keep it down.

* * *

—Optimus' POV—

Like a giant shadow, Optimus listened as the other children and Aria talked and laughed. Or rather, the children laughed while Aria's lips merely twitched or twisted into a mischievous grin, those piercing grey eyes of hers dancing in accordance to her emotions and thoughts.

Their relationship had gotten better over the past few days. Aria was more open and slightly more expressive around him, but whenever they were around others, her features immediately contorted into their usual blank mask. He still of course didn't fully understand what made her act like that but he felt that he was slowly making progress towards discovering her reasoning.

"Hey, so Aria, do you have any plans for Fall Break?" he heard the youngest human, Rafael, ask his charge.

The golden haired girl nodded, making a slight humming sound before answering. "Yeah, I'm gonna be out of town visiting some college campuses out of state," she replied but he got the feeling that she was leaving something out, though it was difficult to tell what exactly.

"Oh that's right," he distantly heard the human, Jack, say. "I keep forgetting that you're a senior now this year."

Still, he was saddened that she would not be remaining close. Ever since the incident, he had gotten accustomed to her constant presence. The loss of it would undoubtedly feel rather queer.

Looking back over, he managed to catch a glimpse of her ruffling Rafael's hair fondly, the child smiling up at her. Then, as if sensing his gaze, she turned her cement-colored gaze his way and smirked; the turn of her lip plates seeming to make her intelligent orbs glitter in an almost enchanting way, before turning back to the other humans.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

"Well guys," I said, standing up and stretching. "I'm gonna go see what my bot is up to. Maybe bug him if he doesn't squish me flat first. Don't cry while I'm gone. Ciao."

Ignoring Miko's annoyed eye roll and unmuted scoff, I made my way over to where my proud guardian stood.

"Hello, Aria," the red and blue bot greeted without turning when I stood only a couple yards away.

 _Cheater_ , I thought in a sort of amused-exasperated way, thinking of the glances he had been shooting my way. Yes, I had noticed but had decided against calling him out on them.

"Ello, Optimus. Been keeping busy?" I prodded.

"Quite," he replied evenly, leaning down and offering a gigantic servo for me to climb into.

Allowing him to place me on his shoulder, I watched as Optimus continued his previous task, typing something away into the monitor before him. I couldn't understand what was he was typing; it was all in cybertronian. But some curious part of my brain tried making sense of the odd cybertronian symbols on the monitor before us anyways. It all looked so interesting. It was a mystery that I wanted to solve but didn't have the right pieces to complete even a section of the puzzle.

"Hey, Optimus, what does that cluster of symbols mean?" I suddenly asked him, pointing at a couple of interestingly shaped symbols in the far right-hand corner in upper part of the screen.

He paused in his motions, looking to where I was pointing. When he found it, I noticed how the corner of his lip plates twitched a little.

"What?" I prodded like a curious cat, wanting to know what amused the Prime so much. "What is it?"

His optics seemed to brighten microscopically as he informed me evenly, "Those symbols you are pointing to are actually my designation."

I blinked in astonishment. "Really? That's neat." Even though I could not read cybertronian, the mystery of the foreign language appealed greatly to me. Pausing for a second, I eventually asked him, "What would my name look like in cybertronian?"

Yeah those was definitely the beginnings of a smile on his face, and I had to admit that while small, it still made him look pretty nice. Less doom and gloom; the lightness causing the years of stress to seemingly evaporate a little from his features.

 _Wait, what?_

Mentally shaking my head, I focused back on what Optimus was doing as he hit what I guessed was the enter button and moved to another line, adding a small group of symbols at the bottom of whatever he was typing.

"Here," he rumbled. "That would be what your name looks like in cybertronian."

"Cool," I said after a minute. "It looks like flames."

And indeed the swirling symbols did indeed look reminiscent of swirling tongues of flame. The irony of the design made me smile as I mentally tried to commit the information to memory. Hey, you never know when knowing how to spell your name in cybertronian could help.

"Indeed it does," Optimus agreed in his usual baritone before quietly going back to work as I watched him.

* * *

—Optimus' POV, Later—

"Optimus," Ratchet called from his usual place at the monitors, causing Aria and himself to briefly share a look, before he walked over to see what the mech wanted, careful not to jostle his charge from his shoulder plates.

Coming to a stop beside the scarlet and white mech, he did not fail to notice the uneasy expression on the medic's face plates as he watched a signal moving across the monitor. "I had hoped that my growing expertise on the subject would remain purely academic," he began, "but though faint, this is clearly a dark energon signature, and it's moving fast."

"Megatron," he surmised, a dark cloud seeming to move in and hang over his spark in an ominous way. He should have known that the Decepticon warlord would not stay inactive for long after his revival.

"Where'd he find more of the bad stuff?" Arcee asked as she and Bulkhead moved over to see what was going on.

"And what's he gonna do with it?" the green wrecker said, adding his two credits in. "Recruit a new army of the undead?"

"We cannot rule out the possibility, especially since Megatron seems to be heading to a familiar site," he agreed though he had his own doubts. It was very unlike the Decepticon warlord to try something that had already proved to be ineffective in the past unless he gained some profit from the move.

Turning, Optimus addressed the rest of his team. "Megatron has barely emerged from stasis, and it seems he's already making up for lost time," he said, but he couldn't help but feel that something was wrong with whole scenario. Surely Megatron couldn't recover that quickly? He may have been a former gladiator from the Pits of Kaon but something just did not add up. Still…he focused back on his team. "Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Ratchet: prepare to roll out."

Ratchet looked surprised. "Me?"

He nodded. "If we are dealing with dark energon, I may well require your expertise," he reasoned, hoping his oldest friend would understand. He then turned to the remaining few. "Arcee—"

The blue femme smirked, not needing him to finish his sentence. "Bridge operator. Got it." She seemed eager for the task, and he could understand her reasoning; being the ground bridge operator was the closest an Autobot got to a vacation or downtime.

Letting his Autobot prepare for departure, he turned his attention to his charge, who had remained silent up until now.

"Duty calls, it seems," she commented dryly, smiling in a half-sparked way as she seemed a tad disappointed.

"So it does," he agreed, feeling equally disappointed though trying not to show it as he set her down on the platform where the other humans sat.

"Stay safe," she called, eliciting a small nod from him before he turned and led the way through the ground bridge. Little did he know that he would soon regret not returning those same words to her.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

The moment Optimus set me down with the kids, I knew that something was up. Call it intuition or whatever but I know from experience that Miko was never this quiet or uninterested in going along with the bots. I mean she didn't even look up from her crappy drawing of Optimus, only telling her guardian to 'bring the hurt' in a disinterested tone as she _calmly_ scribbled away. Seriously though, if the total lack of interest and begging to tag along wasn't enough to send up red flags, then the look in her eyes definitely did it for me.

No one else seemed to think anything of it. Maybe they were just relieved that Miko wasn't saying anything. Or possibly unconcerned with what a fifteen year old girl could do.

Either way, I smelled trouble, and Miko reeked of it.

And it turns out I was right.

Less than a minute after the Bots disappeared through the ground bridge, the _stupide_ girl made a run for it. Straight for the swirling vortex itself. (Stupid)

"Makin' a break."

Cursing under my breath, Jack, Raf and I chased after her, only managing to catch ahold of the mentally challenged girl when she was a couple feet through the swirling green vortex.

"It's not safe!" Jack scowled down at her, clutching the girls' wrist.

And you know what the dimwitted girl said to that?

"I am not gonna miss my first Zombiecon throwdown!"

And with that, she yanked her wrist out of Jack's grip and raced forwards.

It's official; Miko is by far the most mentally challenged girl I have ever met, and trust me, that is saying something.

"Miko!" Jack growled in aggravation as we all ran after the daft girl. With all the racket we were making, I was kinda surprised that Arcee hadn't heard us yet, but I guess that either she was in her zone of battle focus or the ground bridge was really loud.

Anyways, not once did the femme look our way as we disappeared through the portal after the younger human girl. Truth be told, if I had had the time and was thinking straight, I would have first sent Jack and Raf back so that they didn't get hurt and then gone after Miko myself. But time was of the essence so I didn't waste my breath arguing with the other two. Besides, heaven only knows how much I wanted to kill Miko at that exact moment. Little did I know that that would prove to be a very, very bad judgement call.

* * *

Stepping out onto the other side of the portal, we found ourselves in a small, sunny canyon. From the looks of it and the positioning of the sun, I'm guessing that we were still in the US but possibly in a different time zone like Arizona or California. I was leaning more towards Arizona because the barren landscape belonged that of an area with dry heat not humid heat. Not to mention that there were close to zero clouds in the sky.

Anywho, the three of us followed the idiot herself—as Miko shall now forever be dubbed—as she climbed up a nearby large rock formation to get a better view of the battle that would take place soon no doubt.

Sparing a quick glance in the direction the bots were headed, I briefly noted that Megatron was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the slim grey, white and red figure of Starscream stood over an obvious grave-site. It all made sense now though; the traitorous seeker no doubt trying to regain some of his former glory now that Megatron was back in the seat of power.

"Alright, let's see some fight of the living dead already!" the idiot herself cheered quietly, as we all followed her lead and laid flat on the rock. In retrospect, had this been human warfare, this probably would have been a surprisingly strategic move on the idiot's part. None of our enemies would have seen us and unless they were sniping up from the very top of the canyon, we would have the advantage. But since we were dealing with cybertronian's however, that advantage would have gone out the window in an instant, and we may as well have been wearing bright orange in the dark and claiming childishly that no one could see us.

"Miko! What were you thinking?!" Jack snapped at the idiot in a harsh whisper.

I rolled my grey orbs and muttered at the same time Raf said, "She wasn't."

Completely unashamed of what she had done, Miko smirked cockily. "Hey, I totally missed out last time," she said with an overly confident air that I knew was going to get her killed one day. Harsh but true. "This could be only chance to take some snaps." She then patted her pockets for her little pink device before a panicked look set in when she didn't feel anything. "My cellphone! I must have dropped it back at the base." She stood up, visually scouring the nearby area for any traces of the device.

"Geez, it must have been when we were telling you not to do something stupid," I couldn't help but say in an undisguised snarl, "and you went ahead and did the exact opposite anyways." I put on a mock thoughtful look. "Oh! But I'm forgetting, you didn't listen, which means you must be hearing this all for the first time. Sorry, my mistake," I said with all apparent brutal sarcasm and acidic venom in my voice, not even feeling a shred of sympathy for the girl. Hey, it's her own fault that she's a complete and utter idiot. And being so fed up with her, I was definitely not about to start feeling sorry for her anytime soon.

Miko shot me a scathing look at the words. An expression of which I returned tenfold.

Nearby, a couple explosions went off, and I silently prayed in the back of my mind that the bots were alright.

Of course, the threat of being blown to smithereens did not faze the resident idiot. In fact, things just had to go from bad to worse as the idiot decided to blame her own shortcomings on the nearest available targets: Jack and myself.

"Ugh!" she exploded in a loud, carrying voice, glaring at Jack and I. "I can't believe that you made me lose my phone!"

" _Excuse me_?" I hissed in a dangerous tone. This little chit had better learn to control her tongue otherwise she may just very well lose it and full use of certain other limbs.

"Uh, h-how is this my fault?" Jack stuttered, looking a tad perturbed at Miko's unfounded anger.

"It isn't," I growled, placing a hand on his shoulder. "But I guess in little miss perfects world, _nothing is_ _ **ever**_ _her fault_. Face it Miko, you just don't know how to act responsibly and accept the consequences of your actions."

Okay, so maybe I was taking things a little too far, but I was sick and tired of Miko's immature behavior. Even Rafael, the youngest of our little group, was more mature than this hypocritical idiot. Sure, it was no secret—at least to me it wasn't—that the foreign exchange student and I never saw eye-to-eye but yelling at my little brother for no reason at all really took the cake. Trust me, there is a reason why the school bullies don't pick on Jack in front of me anymore.

Meanwhile, Miko's face turned beet red. But before she could form a retort, all of us froze, feeling the gazes of the bots on us. Apparently, while we were having our little tiff, the bots had managed to ground Starscream, somehow managing to sever his entire right arm from the shoulder joint so that he couldn't fly.

Knowing without a doubt that we would be sent directly back to base now, I allowed myself to calm down just a little as I heard the tell-tale sounds of a bridge appearing a second later.

 _Good, I might just be able to kill Miko sooner than expected_.

However, something unexpected happened. Instead of just the one bridge appearing, another green portal sprung to life nearby, closer to Starshit.

 _Uh-oh, why do I suddenly have a bad feeling about this?_

"You four, into our ground bridge! Now!" Ratchet hollered at us after a brief second of confusion, obviously referring to the one closest to us.

Ignoring that feeling of dread that had settled in the pit of my stomach, we all followed the medic's direction and raced into the green vortex; Jack and I keeping a close eye on Miko. But as we ran through, I realized that something was wrong, like, _really_ wrong, as we entered the swirling green mass.

A second too late, I realized what was going on and barely had time to grab the person nearest to me, pulling them close in an attempt to shield them with my body.

 _ **Boom!**_

Less than a second later after the explosion, I felt as my body was suddenly airborne for a few scant seconds before slamming into the hard ground with enough force to slightly daze me. Thankfully for whoever I had managed to grab though, my body had taken the full brunt of the impact, minimizing their injuries, as I landed with a grunt on my back, air being forced from my lungs.

Gulping a couple greedy lungful's of air, nose greeted by dry dust, I slowly managed to crack my eyes open a little to see a familiar kid secured in my arms.

"Ya…alright, Raf?" I wheeze out with a soft grunt.

He groaned and looked up at me. "A-Aria?"

I managed a tired smirk, watching as the kid got slowly to his feet. I could feel various scrapes and bruises making themselves known on some parts of my body, but thankfully none of them were even close to being life threatening.

"Thanks for the save," he said in an awkwardly grown-up way that only a mature child like himself could do.

"You're welcome, kiddo," I replied, ruffling his hair fondly. Trying to see through the cloud of dust that had been sent up, we found Jack and Miko a couple feet away, slowly getting to their feet in a similar fashion as Raf and I had and sporting little to no visible injuries.

"Are you guys okay?" Jack asked quietly looking at the rest of us worriedly.

"Y-yeah."

"I think so."

I nodded fractionally and watched as Jack's shoulders seemed to sag a little in relief, apparently glad like I was that everyone was alright.

But something was off. I couldn't quite place my finger on it, but something felt off. For some reason, our surroundings looked off-color and less vibrant than before, like we had just been looking at a picture with a chrome filter on and had just suddenly switched it to a weak greyscale. Hopefully, I was just imagining things, but that last explosion had felt like it was only just the tip of the iceberg.

Anyways, looking as though he had been sent flying like the kids and I had, we all watched as Bulkhead groaned and slowly got to his feet. The disorientation likely from having been thrown back by the explosion as well.

"Oh, w-what just happened?"

"I can't be certain," Ratchet began in a quiet, distracted tone as he and the rest of the bots also got to their feet. Sheesh, had the backlash of the explosion been that bad? "But if two ground bridges sent to the same coordinates crossed streams, the feedback could have triggered a system overload."

There it was again. That feeling like something was dreadfully wrong.

"'Could'? Hello, more like totally did!" Miko commented in her usual way, not even understanding what Ratchet was saying no doubt.

Oddly enough though, I noticed how when Miko spoke, not once did any of the bots' glance our way at the sound of her voice. It wasn't until I heard what Bulkhead say next did I falter.

"The kids made it through, right?"

I froze, still as a statue. _Bad feeling confirmed_.

"What's he talking about?" I heard Jack ask, Raf echoing his sentiments with a confused, "Huh?

Miko, ever the brash one, stepped forward until she stood less than a couple feet away from her guardian as she said loudly, "Bulkhead, we're right here!"

Was that a note of anxiety I heard in her voice?

Silently, we observed as my guardian brought a couple digits to his audial—or ear, for those of you who don't know cybertroninan anatomy—and said into his comm. link, "Arcee, did the children make it safely back to base?"

Now on a normal day, I would have been pretty peeved about being called a child, but I was still too preoccupied with worrying about what was going on.

There was a pause before Ratchet then said, "No sign," his optics scanning the area and passing right over us as though we weren't even there. It didn't take a genius to know what he was referring to.

"What?! 'No sign'?!" Miko shouted, still in denial as she moved even closet to the pede of her guardian. "Okay, seriously, Bulk—"

Then the weirdest, freakiest thing happened. The green metal giant took a step that should have squashed Miko—or at the very least, punted her into a wall—and instead went right _through_ her, passing through her body like it was a ghost.

"He went right through you," Jack said quietly, obviously scared like the rest of them were no doubt were as he grasped the girl's shoulders.

We needed to do something, fast, otherwise the bots would leave with no idea that we were there.

Considering the situation with a calculating look, I heard as Jack said something about not being alive, eliciting a horrified reaction from the other two.

What could I do? It needed to be big and noticeable so what could…? The corners of my lips twitching; I raced forward until I was only a couple yards in front the bots, pulled out one of my short staffs and quickly used it to draw a hasty message in the dirt in large letters.

' _HELP!_ '

Watching as the bots turned away from the site of the explosion, I waited, silently praying to all divine forces out there, both known and unknown, that they would see it. That Optimus would see it.

 _Come on. Please notice it. Please not—_

He didn't. Instead, freaking Bulkhead had to go and step on my little SOS and basically erase any further evidence that we were right there in front of them. _Thanks a lot Bulkhead, it looks like I'll just have to demote you from your current rank on my respected persons' list_.

Sighing dejectedly, the kids and I came to an unspoken agreement to follow the bots as they headed towards the grave I had noticed earlier.

Ahead of us, I could hear as Ratchet and Optimus were conversed in low, serious tones about what could have happened to us.

"Ratchet, could the children have been transported onto the _Nemesis_ instead?"

The medic shook his head, frowning a bit. "Not likely. If Starscream didn't arrive at our base, the most likely explanation is a dislocation. The children may simply have been bridged to an unintended destination."

 _Been there, done that_ , I thought, remembering the time I had accidentally been bridged to where Optimus and Ratchet had been fighting Megatron's undead army. _And again with the 'children.' When we get back, I'm gonna have a serious talk with a certain medic and bot-in-charge about what qualifies as a child_. I frowned, unconsciously slowing to a stop like the bots had. _If we get back that is_.

"Another place but in the same place."

I looked back at the others to see both Miko and Jack looking at little Raf in confusion.

"W-what do you mean?" Jack asked.

"We're probably in a different dimension," the kid explained, making a helluva lot more sense than what my brain was trying to come up with. "Some kind of…alternate reality. A shadowzone."

I exhaled softly at the last sentence. _Geez, I know we aren't exactly having a blast right now but is the doom and gloom really necessary? Everything is ominous enough as it is already…or is that just because of the grey clouds hanging overhead?_

"Nerd alert," Miko scoffed, making me want to smack her right now.

Thankfully for her though, a look from Jack and some unintended intervention from my guardian saved her.

"Look," he rumbled as he and the bots gathered around a large empty pit. "Skyquake's tomb is empty."

Did he really have to say tomb? My nerves were shot enough as it was already even if I didn't chose to show it.

"How did we miss Skyquake rising and shining?" Bulkhead queried, obviously troubled by the fact that both his charge and a supposedly dead Decepticon were not where they should be.

"It would seem Starscream got what he came for," I heard Ratchet say.

Thankfully, Optimus focused back on track. "Another matter for another time," he rumbled in that baritone voice that I had come to find almost soothing in a way. "Right now, our priority is locating Aria, Jack, Miko, and Rafael."

With that, he called Arcee for a ground bridge.

Deciding that now might be a great time to figure out what were going to do next, I opened my mouth to say something when a great, clamorous creaking, squeak split the air, like metal scraping against metal, made us all freeze.

It was then that we saw him. Huge and covered in rust-tarnished metal that had definitely seen a beating, the undead con was covered in various metal spikes and other pointy and dangerously sharp protrusions. Broad, winged like a seeker, and covered in armor that had probably been painted some nice colors that flattered his figure, you could no longer tell what his original color scheme could have been; his body having been dead for some time and left at the mercy of the elements until all that was left was a gunmetal grey color. I couldn't see his optics but I knew if I looked into them, they would be colored a disturbing purple hue that lacked the spark of life.

Lumbering over towards the bots, my eyes widened when I realized that he was going straight for my guardian.

I did not think. I did not stop to consider. I just sprinted alongside the kids, yelling like them to try and warn the bots about their soon-to-be attacker.

"Look out Optimus!"

* * *

—Undead Puppet's POV—

The undead puppet was just that: a puppet. Whoever he may have once been, he was no longer that bot. He was just a pawn of a force greater than himself and had no greater purpose than to serve that force. _It_ possessed no feeling or emotion except the never ceasing compulsion to fulfil its master's biddings. This mindless slave was only here to fulfil one purpose and one purpose only: to destroy, or more specifically, to destroy the children of his Master's enemy, especially the Prime's.

It did not know what a 'Prime' was, as this slave was no less than a mindless drone, but it could sense a presence. A powerful presence that, had it not been a mindless puppet, would have irritated the undead warrior.

 _Destroy_. It needed to destroy the presence. Its masters will commanded it.

Lumbering forward, toward the irritating life signature, which made its lifeless body feel like it was slowly burning in the light of it, the undead puppet sloppily drew back a clawed servo and brought down the otherwise appendage on its completely unsuspecting victim.

But the attack did nothing. Growling with its master's frustration, the puppet turned its sights elsewhere upon its master's direction.

There. Another presence. It was not like the others, and much smaller, but it carried the signature of his master's enemy all the same, albeit faintly, like an echo. It belonged to the golden-helmed being

With that realization the undead began to make its way after the signature, fully intent upon destroying it.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

Skidding to a stop, I allowed myself to feel a brief pause of relief when the attack did nothing but pass through the bots harmlessly.

 _Oh thank Go—Wait_. My grey eyes widened to the size of saucers. _If the Bot's can't hear him, and he can't touch the bots…oh shit_.

"Awesome. It can't touch them, either," Miko cheered stupidly.

With a loud growl, we all watched as the undead Decepticon turned his purple gaze on us.

"If that thing can't touch the bot's—" Jack began.

A look of fear made its way onto Miko's features for once. "Just like we can't?"

"Then we're trapped in the shadowzone with a Decepticon Zombie?!" Raf finished.

As we all watched the undead giant lumber towards us, I can say for certain that we all more or less felt like Death was dragging one of his fingers down our spines in a horrifying manner.

"If we aren't ghosts now, we will be soon," Miko squeaked, tensed and fearful as the beast before us roared in a terrifying way that shook me to the core.

"We need to move," I said, eyes fixed on the undead alien as he came closer and closer, each footstep shaking the ground a bit. "Now. Run!"

Not even attempting to argue with my orders, all four of us turned tail and ran.

 _Optimus, if you can hear me, then please, hurry and find us soon_.

* * *

—Optimus's POV—

While he may have looked like his usually calm self to his team, Optimus was anything but calm in his processor. He was just as worried as his warriors—if not more—about the children and their whereabouts. He was especially worried about his charge, Aria.

Where were they? Were they alright? Why hadn't Aria contacted him yet?

Millions of worries, questions, and other concerns filled his processor, but a soft jolt of energy from the Matrix of Leadership reminded him that he needed to calm down. His team needed a calm leader, not a panicked mech that could barely function because he'd lost his helm.

Still…

Another jolt to his spark, more forceful and reprimanding in nature. He needed to be calm and composed.

 _Aria is a capable femme_ , he reminded himself. _She can take care of herself and the others._ If a Decepticon were to get ahold of them, he knew that at least Aria would be able to protect the other humans. She would be alright.

At least he hoped she would be…

* * *

—Aria's POV—

Running at a pace that would make some sprinters proud, the four of us wove our way through the canyon, trying in vain to lose our large-footed pursuer.

All around me, I could hear the pounding of our feet, the labored breathing of the other three and the whistle of wind in our ears as we just ran like there was no tomorrow, which there wouldn't be if any of us stopped. Unfortunately, Raf, being younger and shorter than the rest of us, had trouble keeping up with the rest of us, so it was no surprise when the kid tripped and fell; his glasses flying off his face. Thankfully, Jack was there to help the kid up and pull him behind the rock formation we had decided to hide behind.

"Jack, my glasses!" Raf said, looking odd in my opinion without his signature spectacles perched on his face.

Peering out, we all looked to see that the bumbling zombiecon was getting closer.

"Way too dangerous," Jack said.

"I can't see without them," Raf said, making a very good point. If he couldn't see where he was going, the kid would no doubt end up stumbling again.

Miko, however, rudely said, "What are you, ninety?"

I couldn't help it; I whacked Miko good and hard on the back side of the head. "Not helping."

The girl just shot me a loathsome glare and said simply, "Fine," before rushing out from our cover and snatching up the little boy's glasses, weaving through the undead titan's legs before rushing back over and pushing the item carelessly into Raf's hands.

"Here you go gramps. Let's book," she said as we all took off running again. Oh if only I could have the time to backhand her into next week. Call me violent but I really had little else to focus on except running like my life depended on it, the dangerous alien zombie trying to smoosh us, and trying hopelessly to figure a way out of this situation. So far I was drawing up nothing but blanks, so I just settled on not dying and burning holes in Miko's back with my eyes.

Behind us, the zombie gurgled out a low growl, his sights fixed on us. And don't ask me how I know that, I was just unlucky enough to catch a glimpse of the titan's face as he trudged after us.

* * *

"Maybe we could set a trap, try to crush it," Miko randomly threw out there sometime later as we wove in and out of narrower passages in the canyon. Hopefully, they would give the metal monstrosity some trouble.

"With what? Nothing around here is solid except us and ground," Raf retorted.

"We can't run forever," Miko said making a good point. "But maybe we can hide."

"Not the greatest idea," I said. "If we were even lucky to find a place to hide, Skyquake might bring the place down on us and crush us. Besides, there aren't many places you can use to hide from a freaking twenty-foot tall metal menace."

"Well, I'm sorry your highness but we've gotta do something," Miko sneered.

"What is your problem?!" I snapped at the foreign girl. "You act like one of those snotty, rich brats!"

"Shut up! You are not the boss of me! You can't tell me what to do, Freak!" she shrieked.

My eyes flashed earning a fearful look from Jack, though I didn't see it. "The only reason I say anything is to keep you alive, you ungrateful cow!"

"I never asked you to!"

"Oh because you were doing such a great job getting Raf and Jack almost killed!" I mocked, my face twisted in an ugly snarl. "But excuse me, the lives of others don't concern Princess Miko. All she cares about is getting her next adrenaline rush!"

"That's not true!" she howled at me. "Shut the hell up you emotionless reject!"

By now, I was just a couple words shy of throttling her with my bare hands; my expression looking downright murderous. "Ha," I laughed in a bitter, mocking tone that was riddled with frost. "You should look at yourself you emptyheaded, thick-skulled hypocrite! Unlike you, this 'emotionless reject' happens to care about what happens to others, so if you don't mind, I'm gonna try to get Raf and Jack out of here alive since you apparently think this is all a game."

She opened her mouth to retort but I cut her off before she could.

"Shut your mouth right now, you asinine idiot. You sound like a cow."

Miko tried anyway to retaliate with another comeback but was forced to swallow it as we all dove to the ground to avoid Skyquake's claws.

Glancing back, I met the lifeless purple gaze of the undead Decepticon warrior. _Was it just me or were Skyquake's eyes fixed on me in particular?_ _Oh well, I guess he heard about how I helped trash Megatron's undead army last time_.

 _Wait…that actually just gave me an idea._

Skidding to a stop, I narrowed my eyes on the undead cybertronian.

"Aria! What are you doing?!" Jack hollered at me.

" _GO!_ I'm gonna try to buy you guys some time!"

Distantly, I heard Jack call my name as I ran at the giant, but it was lost on deaf ears which were attached to a stubborn head.

Diving to the side to avoid Skyquake's claws, I drew out my batons, transformed them into blades and slashed at his ankle. Unfortunately for me, Skyquake's armor was thick and very strategically layered so that few wires were exposed. So when the first swipe of my batons came down, it was rendered ineffective when blade met thick metal armor. Jumping back in the wolf method of strike and pull back attack, I allowed myself a second of reprieve before diving in again. But it was no use. His hide was too dense and well-protected to be harmed from any of my strikes. Not to mention that he wasn't as old, corroded, and severely disrepaired as those other zombies I had faced; he had only died recently so his body hadn't had much time to decompose. ( _Can that word still apply to metal alien zombies?_ ).

Any who, I did the next, crazy thing to do in this kind of situation. I used the undead warrior's slow movements to my advantage and started climbing up his frame like a mountain cat.

Now if you've ever been rock climbing, you know that it's a bit difficult—and downright dangerous—to do so without a rope or harness, especially when you're not on a climbing wall. But climbing a moving target while trying not to be turned into bug paste is ten times more dangerous. Not only do you have to avoid being smooshed by large, clawed servos, but you have to make sure that you don't put your fingers in the wrong place where they can be cut off by moving plates of armor. Add in the fact that you are several feet off the ground and could break something if you fall, and this stunt can easily qualify as being unquestionably insane.

Somehow though, I managed, pulling and cutting wires when I could as I scaled the metal titan like a kid would a jungle gym.

 _Screw BASE jumping_ , I thought in a haughty tone, _I just invented a new sport._

However, my moment of triumph was short-lived when seemingly out of nowhere a rusted servo with sharp digits nearly flattened me like a pancake had I not ducked a second before the metal hand clawed the area of space I had just previously occupied.

 _Damn that was too close for comfort_.

Determined to take this giant motherfucker down before it could hurt the kids, my batons flashed through the air, stabbing and jabbing at any exposed areas I encountered, causing the titan to bellow in pain. Multiple times, I had to halt in my advances to avoid becoming a bloodstain on Skyquake's armor as he swatted at me like one would an annoying fly. If my life wasn't danger, I probably would have stopped to laugh once or twice as I watched the apparently brainless zombie hit himself several times over when he made a grab for me.

"Hey Skyquake, why are you hitting yourself?" I taunted the undead warrior once as I twirled in a flash of black, sliver, and gold.

I only received a body-shaking growl of frustration in reply.

Unfortunately for me, all good things must come to an end and with one rather unexpected and sudden movement from the titan I stood upon, I was thrown off balance. Miraculously, my fingers somehow found purchase on a piece of Skyquake's plating. But the relief I felt did not last long as a large metal hand headed straight towards me; I had no choice but to let go.

Tucking into a roll, I didn't notice how one of my feet was slightly angled the wrong way until my feet hit the ground and there was a sickening crunching, popping sound, similar to when you stretch and your limbs pop into place, except this time it was so much worse and I could feel pain lance up my left leg upon impact.

"Fuck!" I yelped, the curse lost in the thunderous footfalls of our zombie pursuer. With a great deal of effort and a lot of pain, I forced myself to get off my ass and continue running, despite the pain I felt with my every other step.

"Aria, are you alright?" Jack asked worriedly, as we all skidded to a stop some unknown amount of time later.

"Just…peachy," I hissed out, leaning heavily on my right. Mentally though, I was the exact opposite, cursing up a storm with every curse word I knew, both in the English language and in others. Looking down, my foot didn't seem to be too bad. I mean, it wasn't angled oddly as if it were broken and it wasn't swelling. Yet. Still, it seemed fully functional and it would have to be because the stupid undead robot was almost on top of us. Again. Seriously, it's like he can freaking teleport or something right at the worst possible moment.

"Come on!" I said, jumping into a sprint, only to immediately regret it since the next moment I felt pain jolt up my left leg as soon as I put pressure on that foot. Stubbornly though, I disregarded the pain in my limb in favor of running—though it was more like hobbling at a fast limp—for my life, not wanting it to be anymore shortened than it already was.

If all else failed, I wanted to do whatever it took to make sure the kids got out alive.

* * *

"The best thing about zombies: they're slow-moving," Miko panted, pantomiming her words as we all hid behind another discolored rock formation.

Truth be told, I had no idea how long we had been stuck running around in this godforsaken dimension. As has been my experience, in worst-case life-or-death situations, time tended to either speed up or slow down, depending on how drawn out and/or chaotic the situation was.

"Don't jinx it," I grumbled, leaning on my right so as to not cause pain in my left. While I would never admit it aloud, I was in serious pain right now. I really just wanted to stop, sit down, and not use my feet for anything for the next week or two, but my ever-logical brain reminded me otherwise.

Regaining control of my breathing, I figured we had about a handful of minutes before we had to start running again.

Suddenly, a familiar tune began to issue from Jack's back pocket, causing us all to freeze.

Raf was the first to speak. "Is that your—?"

"Phone!" we all chorused in unison.

Shoving his hand into his back pocket, Jack pulled out the vibrating device and quickly flicking it open. "Hello? Arcee?"

But even from here, I could hear the garbled static that came through the device.

"Hello? A-Arcee?" he sighed, pulling the little grey device away from his ear. "Nothing."

Just as the line cut out on his phone, my phone decided to ring immediately after, the caller ID telling me that it was Optimus calling.

"Hello? Optimus!" I answered only to be met with static. I looked up at the others noticing how the surge of hope we had all felt before was quickly dying in each of their faces.

"Gee imagine that," Miko said sarcastically. "The fourth dimension has lousy cellphone reception."

"Wait, guys, guys, guys. The phone's _rang_. We're getting a signal," Jack said, looking excited.

"Maybe the Autobots can't see or hear us because we're moving at hyperspeed or something," Raf hypothesized.

"Do you think that they can read us?" Jack asked.

"Texting!" Raf concluded looking hopeful.

"Text me!" Miko suggested. "If my phone's back at the base, maybe they'll see it."

I wanted to add how that it was a very big 'if' but refrained from saying anything. There was no need to be a Debbie Downer.

"Uh, can you type and run?" Raf asked nervously glancing to the side as Skyquake towered over us, issuing an almost triumphant roar.

"Move it people!" I commanded in my best drill sergeant voice as we ran through the Decepticon's legs like errant mice.

We ran at top speed, the gigantic claws just narrowly missing us as I was forced to tackle Jack out of the way. Paying no mind to the odd stinging sensation in my back the failed attack had left behind, I pulled Jack to his feet, limping after him as we sprinted away. Adrenaline coursed through my veins in a fierce torrent, keeping me going, even if my body screamed to do otherwise.

 _I swear I feel like one of the Company from_ The Hobbit, I reflected. _We just keep running from danger, finding brief respite, only to start running again. I hope to Hell that some crazy author up there doesn't decide to put our backs up against a wall anytime soon. Then we'd really be royally screwed_.

Zigzagging around several more bends, all of us skidded to another stop after several more minutes of running like our lives depended on it, breathing hard.

"Those were some a close shaves back there," I wheezed dryly, chuckling breathlessly at my words. Hell, even I was getting worn down by all this running and I was likely the most physically fit of the four of us; I could only imagine how the kids were feeling.

"A little too close," little Raf coughed, clutching at a stitch in his side.

"We need to get moving soon," I finally said, trying to stand up straight. But for some reason, there was this odd draining sensation I felt as I did so, but I ignored it. I could already feel my obviously injured limb shaking underneath me, struggling to support my weight.

Jack sights, however, were focused on something else; his eyes glued to a spot near my back, wide and disturbed.

"But Aria, your back," he protested, sounding a little horrified as he pointed. "It's cut."

I glanced back and sure enough, there was a lovely slash mark left behind from one Skyquake's sharp nails, bleeding sluggishly. "So I am," I admitted with a noncommittal shrug. "So I am."

"Seriously? That's all you're gonna say?"

"Well what do you want me to say? 'Ouch! The agony! I can't go on!'?" I snapped, eyes flashing dangerously. "Newsflash Jack, it's a lot shallower than it seems."

"But-"

"Shut up Jack! We don't have time for this!" Okay, so yelling at him was a little uncalled for, but I was exhausted, hurt, and tired of running in damn circles.

Nearby, we head a familiar roar, signaling that we needed to run. Again.

* * *

"Déjà vu!" Miko called as we dashed like crazed sprinters who wanted to be long distance runners instead.

"What?" Jack puffed, looking moderately confused.

"This doesn't look familiar to you?" she pushed.

"Not really."

"We've been a little busy trying to not die to admire the scenery!" I choked out, trying to not wince with every other step I took. Trust me, it's a lot harder to do than I make it sound.

Miko rolled her eyes as if to mock me as she exclaimed, "Dude, we just ran one big circle!"

Too late, we weren't looking where we were going and all smashed into something hard and metallic.

Blinking, I realized that it was Starscream's arm, the one the bots had managed to clip before we had gotten ourselves into this mess.

"Sweet," Miko chirped.

I failed to see how a detached giant, alien arm qualified as 'sweet' but refrained from saying anything.

"It must have gotten trapped in here during the explosion, too," little Raf reasoned.

Like a starved wolf diving on a sack of meat, my brain quickly started to piece out a shaky solution to our problem. It wasn't a perfect plan but—

"Well, if it's solid, we can use it," Jack interrupted my chain of thoughts, unconsciously echoing what I had been thinking as he critically surveyed the abandoned appendage.

The missile, or whatever the red-colored projectile was, was still attached so if we used it just right, we could possibly take Skyquake down or at least hinder him somewhat.

All the same though, it was definitely a plan, something we desperately needed right now.

Sharing a look with one another, we quickly raced over to the clawed arm and began pushing until the long red projectile was aimed at the hulking form of the undead alien warrior.

"Anyone know how to fire this thing?" Miko asked at last when it was in place, patting the arm like a button that said 'push to kill giant evil zombie' would magically pop up at will. "I don't see a trigger."

"Starscream did something with his fingers," I heard Raf mumble.

"You pull the third and fourth digits back," I informed them, ignoring Miko's eye roll and scoff of "know-it-all."

Hearing the tell-tale roar of or pursuer, we all scrambled into position, hiding behind the clawed digits of the severed arm. Anyone else thing that there is something wrong with that last statement?

"We have one shot. We need to make it count," I heard Jack say as our quarry thundered towards us.

Patiently, and with some trepidation, we all waited for the right moment to strike.

A couple more steps and—

"Now!" I shouted.

Moving the sharp, grey digits like how I had instructed them, we watched as the rocket flared to life and zipped toward Skyquake's massive form.

 _ **Boom!**_

"How do you like us now?" Miko cheered as the resulting dust slowly began to settle.

Unfortunately, our happy feeling didn't last long as out of the settling dust Skyquake bellowed in anger before his hand fell off and started chasing after us like a giant, demented version of "Thing" from _the Addams Family_.

 _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_ Over and over I mentally swore, sure that all the divine forces out there either hated me or had some vendetta against me. It wouldn't be that much of a surprise either since I had done a lot over the years to piss other people off.

"Come on! Come on!" Jack shouted as we all turned tail and ran.

"I'm calling it!" I shouted. "The world hates us!"

"How can the zombie arm move faster than the actual zombie?" Miko complained loudly.

Behind us, we could hear the crashes of the freaking zombie hand as it _leapt_ after us.

Forget trying to survive until tomorrow! We needed to focus on surviving more than ten minutes here in this demented dimension.

* * *

 _In the famous words of my college algebra teacher: 'Fuck my life'_ , I thought, gawking at the familiar limb before us. We were back where we started; Starscream's severed limb laying there innocently before us and seeming to mock our very fight for survival.

"Oh come on! This place is like one big merry-go-round!" Miko complained, her little pigtail puffs sagging a little with her dejection like cat ears as we all stared at the appendage.

 _Except without the merry part_ , I mentally added.

"Skyquake, your master summons you!"

 _Wait…I'd know that screechy, girly voice anywhere_.

Looking up, I was met with the sight of the high heeled, Decepticon second-in-command himself making his way towards our position.

"How'd that freak get into our dimension?" I heard Miko ask. Well at least we can both agree on the fact that Starscream is a freak, even though I doubt our applications of the word freak are even remotely the same.

"He didn't," Jack informed her. "He can't see us."

"Forget Starscream," the foreign girl said, looking behind us. "We gotta run some more!"

Painfully, I leapt into a sprint alongside the other's, now ready to scream in agony at this point. I knew full well that we weren't gonna make it through the night at this rate. We needed help now.

Then suddenly, like our saving grace from out of the blue and the answer to all our prayers, a ground bridge appeared before us, causing our little group to skid to a stop.

"A ground bridge portal?" Raf questioned as Jack's eyes lit up.

"That has to be our way out of here!" he said and I had a good feeling that he was right.

"The Autobots saw our text," Miko cheered.

 _No-freaking-duh_.

All of us hesitated, wary now after our last little ground bridge episode.

"If we go through, we run smack into Starscream," Raf said, obviously more terrified of the living seeker than the undead one and his hand. "If we don't…"

"We're zombie chow," Jack finished, as we all glanced behind us.

"Option three: we keep running in circles," my fellow female added her two cents in with a sarcastic note.

"Follow my lead," Jack called after a moment of thought, moving before the portal and tensing, ready to spring through the portal at a moment's notice.

I didn't need to ask what he was thinking; I already knew what he had in mind.

Following his lead, I felt as my hard won muscles tensed under my skin, ready for action. As the hand clattered closer and closer, Miko pranced on the spot, biting her nails a bit and reminding me of a child doing the 'potty dance'.

"Now!"

We jumped through, effectively surprising Starscream enough as we all darted through his legs.

"Humans? Where did you vermin—"

 _ **CRASH!**_

 _And the hand has struck folks!_

Smirking a bit as I heard the Decepticon screeching for the hand to "unhand" him, I felt considerably lighter and more hopeful about a rescue now that we were out of the 'shadowzone'. As a result, that feeling only escalated as another ground bridge portal opened before us and a welcome face greeted us from out of its light.

"Aria, Jack, Miko, Rafael," my bot said causing me to silently sigh in relief.

Sure, I was a little fearful of the tongue, erm, excuse me, _glossa_ -lashing we were going to get, but for now, I was content with just seeing the face of my guardian. I could worry about other matters later.

* * *

"Look, if you're gonna blame anybody, blame me."

I blinked multiple times in undisguised surprise, totally taken aback by the words that had just issued out of the resident wild-child's mouth.

 _Ugh, my exhaustion must be getting to me_ , I thought, rubbing my face tiredly. _I could have sworn that I heard Miko just try to take the blame for all our misfortune today_.

We had just gotten through giving a general summary of what had happened in the other dimension. Though to be fair, there wasn't much to tell. We had left out the parts about Miko and I fighting and my getting injured—for which I was thankful.

Anyways, Jack, on the other hand, had no such qualms about mishearing.

"I'm sorry. Could you repeat that a couple dozen times?" he asked, apparently still peeved about what had happened today.

Raf and the others just smartly chose to remain silent.

"Miko, what you endured has been lesson enough," my bot said sagely. "We are just glad you are all safe."

Smiling a bit to myself, I allowed the mental coo of, _Awe, the big guy really does care about us_. And he really did because I could hear the faint traces of relief and assured anxiety in his voice.

With that in mind, I turned to limp my way out of the room, swallowing back a wince every other step.

"And where do you think you're going, Aria?" I heard Jack suddenly call, causing me to halt in my tracks.

"Somewhere," I replied vaguely, schooling my expression into my best poker face.

"With an injured leg?" he asked loudly, calling everyone's attention to me.

 _This is not what I needed right now_.

I turned slowly, my expression giving nothing away. "Jack, it's just a strained muscle. It's nothing to worry about," I told him shortly.

"How do you know? You don't have any medical expertise. And let's not forget that slash on your back," he added.

 _Jack, I love you to death, baby bro, but you seriously need to lay off now_.

"Aside from some meager CPR and basic first aid, you're right, I don't," I agreed, trying to keep a level head. "But I've had more than my fair share of injuries in the past so I know what a strained muscle feels like. And as for Skyquake's little parting gift…it's just a scratch."

Okay a slight exaggeration since the undead seeker's claws were apparently sharp enough to cut through some pretty thick leather like Swiss cheese, but it really wasn't that big of a deal. I mean, it wasn't like Skyquake had cut deeply enough to injure my spinal cord.

But apparently through, that was the wrong thing to say as Jack burst out, "'Just a scratch'?! Aria, I know how thick those leather jackets you wear are, and I know I saw some blood—"

"That's enough, Jack," I cut in. "I know you're concerned—"

"'Concerned'?!"

"—but it is nothing to worry about. It not like he severed my spinal cord or something. Skyquake just drew a little blood, that's all."

"Aria, you're hurt, you need to—"

"ENOUGH!"

* * *

—Optimus' POV—

"I said that I'm fine! Now leave me alone!" the girl growled angrily, stunning them all to silence, before turning on her heel and limping out of the room. They all watched silently as the angry girl stormed out of the room, a definite limp in her step.

"Well that was…unsurprising," Jack said after a moment, sighing slightly and effectively breaking the heavy silence and drawing every eyeball and optic towards him.

"'Unsurprising?'" Arcee questioned as if asking him 'What planet are you from?' "How do you figure that?"

Surprisingly, it wasn't Jack that replied but Optimus as he asked, "This isn't the first time she has acted this way, is it?"

Jack smiled dryly at him in answer. "Don't take it personally. It's just Aria being Aria. She'll be alright." The boy paused before sighing again. "Aria's tough, I should know that better than anyone."

"Should we send someone after her?" the youngest of the base asked shyly, obviously concerned about his charge like he was.

"No."

Everyone turned to him, surprised and even he himself had to admit that surprise himself with his own words. "No," he said more calmly as he became more sure of himself with each word. "It is probably best to leave Aria alone for a moment before."

It made more sense with each word he spoke. From what he knew of her, his charges' temper was something to be reckoned with. Not only that, he knew she was quite stubborn when she wanted to be too. Those two combined were a dangerous mixture. And since she was injured…well, dealing with her would be the equivalent of trying to deal with a feral animal. So it was best for now just to let her cool off and try to approach her later.

Besides, if he knew her as well as he had come to, he knew where to find her when the time was right.

* * *

—Aria's POV, Later—

Watching the dying sunlight in the distance, I allowed myself to let loose and relax a little. My hair was still damp from my recent showering attempts to clean the cut across my back; it wouldn't do for me to survive what had happened today only to get Lockjaw from a stupid cut.

"Come on out. I know you're there," I called softly, knowing without turning who was behind me.

There was a rumble of large footsteps before the large figure of my guardian came to stand by my left.

"How are you faring Aria?" he asked in that deep, rumbling voice of his.

"Better now that I've cooled down a bit," I admitted, not taking my eyes off the sunset. I knew he wasn't really referring to my mood, but I hoped he wouldn't press me much about my injuries and just take my word for it. "How are you feeling?"

"Admittedly better than I was an hour ago," the big bot admitted much to my surprise.

"Oh really? I doubt that myself and the kids going missing had that much of an impact on you," I said offhandedly, chin resting on my knees.

"Then you do not know me at all."

This time I did, look over at him, a questioning brow raised though he did not look away from the wash of red, orange and yellow on the horizon.

"Aria, the Autobot's and I have grown increasingly attached to you and the other human's over the time period we have spent together. When you went missing on that battlefield…" he stopped short, offlining his optics and venting before finally turning his blue-eyed gaze towards me. "I honestly had trouble focusing on my duties as a leader because of my worry for you was so great."

He wasn't lying; I could see the honesty in his optics.

Turning back to the sunset, I asked softly, "Why?"

I could feel his questioning gaze on me so I clarified my question a bit more, mouth going dry as I said lowly, "Why me? I'm nothing special. I can understand being worried about the kids, but why me too?"

For a moment there was no reply, and I honestly thought that he wasn't going to or didn't know how to answer, so I was surprise when Optimus then gently picked me up and held me gently before his eyes.

"Aria, whether you know it or not, I have become very fond of you," he told me gently, his brilliant blue optics meeting my grey eyes as he spoke every word. "You care more about others than you wish let on and are willing to go to any lengths to protect those around you, be they friends, enemies, or strangers. Not only that, but once someone has earned some of your trust, you are stubbornly loyal to a fault, sticking to what you believe is right no matter the trials and tribulations you have to endure. I value and admire that and consider you to be one of my close friends and someone I do not want to lose so readily."

He fell silent after that, his optics seeming to try and convey all his unspoken thoughts and feelings to me.

I didn't realize that I was so close to crying until I blinked, and a single tear made its way down my cheek.

I was just so surprised; I had not heard words like those in, well, never.

Doing only what felt natural to me, I leant in and rested my forehead against his as best as I could, looking him in the optics and smiling a genuine smile at him.

"Thank you, Optimus. You have no idea what you have given me," I whispered. "Nor how much your words really mean to me."

For a moment, we just stayed like that, looking into each other's gazes until we both pulled away, each chuckling a bit for some unknown reason as Optimus gently set me on his shoulder and we watched the sun set together.

But as I sat there with him in contented silence, I noticed an odd feeling that seemed to originate from where my heart was. What could it be?

* * *

Sorry, I just couldn't help but add a fluffy ending to this chapter. (*Gasps* Daylila, what are you doing here?). Plus, I also wanted to start to give Optimus' and Aria's relationship a nudge in the right direction, if you know what I mean. (Check the genres of this story if you don't know what I'm talking about).

So as you folks can tell, I am not too fond of Miko and so is Aria, though her dislike of the girl is definitely more intense than my own dislike. Yes I know Miko's stupid stunts are part of what add interest and conflict or a catalyst to the series but sometimes she is just such an idiot.

Okay mini rant over.

Please review, fav and follow. I still want a total of 5 reviews before I post the next chapter. Did I mention the next chappie finally goes more into Aria's background and family and the little girl on the end of the phone? Just thought I mention.

TTYL and Review and VISIT MY POLLS PLEASE!

Merry Chirstmas ya'll!


	18. Homecoming

Okay now this chapter I think you all will like. Why? Because it goes more into detail about Aria. Isn't that great? Not only that but there's gonna be a couple new OC's introduced in this chapter. One for sure, I will guarantee that you all will like cuz she's just so freaking adorable—hey I fell in love with her too—and the other(s)…well not so much. You'll see why pretty soon.

On another note, I would like you all to know that I really appreciate the efforts of those who bothered to favorite, follow, or review. Especially, to those who reviewed like **Horsegirl101** , **Great i dea** , **avatarange** , and **malkah5967**. Now I know I said that I would only update if I got five reviews but I decided to be lenient for now and update anyways as an apology for updating so late on the previous chapter.

Lastly, you should all know that while this chapter is taking place, the episode _Operation: Breakdown_ is going on also during one of the days in the course of the week that this chapter covers.

Now on with the show! Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** No, to all you dunderheads out there, I do not own Transformers Prime at all because if I did, Optimus would have Aria kicking his aft into gear and Ironhide would be there too, cheering her on. The same applies to any other recognizable quotes or songs or scenes or whatever you find in this chapter. They are only here because I think those pieces are awesome and this is my weird way of showing how much I like them.

* * *

 **Chapter 18: Homecoming**

—Aria's POV, Buckeye, Arizona—

" _Stayed awake all night tossin', turnin'._

 _Now my blood shot eyes are burnin'._

 _Workin' out why this ain't workin'._

 _Fight after fight after fight_

 _And now it's killin' me._

 _You were too busy to believe in_

 _All the run away dreams I was dreamin'._

 _Time to pack up and go I'm leavin'_

 _Fight after fight after fight_

" _And now I gotta be_

 _On my own_

 _And living in a world alone._

 _Gets better every day_

 _That I don't have to say I'm sorry I'm coming home._

 _I'm gonna make it on my own._

 _I'll always take the harder road._

 _Gets better every day_

 _That I don't have to say I'm sorry I'm coming home._

" _How'd you end up oh so jaded?_

 _Cynical and so sedated?_

 _Can't live in this world you created_

 _Day after day after day_

" _And now I gotta be_

 _On my own_

 _And living in a world alone._

 _Gets better every day_

 _That I don't have to say I'm sorry I'm coming home._

 _I'm gonna make it on my own._

 _I'll always take the harder road._

 _Gets better every day_

 _That I don't have to say I'm sorry I'm coming home._

" _You will always be the lonely one._

 _You will always try to swallow the sun._

 _Just remember you could never make it rain on everyone._

" _On my own_

 _And living in a world alone_

 _Gets better every day_

 _Cause I don't have to say…_

 _And now you're killing me._

" _On my own_

 _And living in a world alone._

 _Gets better every day_

 _That I don't have to say I'm sorry I'm coming home._

 _I'm gonna make it on my own._

 _I'll always take the harder road._

 _Gets better everyday_

 _That I don't have to say I'm sorry I'm coming home._

 _I'll make it on my own._

 _I'm sorry I won't be coming home._

 _I'll make it on my own._

 _I'm sorry I won't be coming home._

 _I'll make it on my own._

 _I'm sorry I won't be coming home._

 _I'll make it on my own._

 _I'm sorry I won't be coming home."_

"'Cause I don't wanna come home," I sang along softly, adding my own little line in at the end as I turned another corner. Singing has never been one of my gifts in life. In fact, I'm sure that many critics out there would find me mediocre at best. But sometimes when I'm dreading something, I find that softly following along with lyrics of certain songs helps calm my nerves when I'm feeling jittery.

Yes, I, Aria Slade-Cage, was nervous.

Why?

Because I was going home.

Now if you were to approach almost any person out there and ask them about their homes, you would more often than not hear some pretty sweet stories. Their mothers were kind and caring, and their fathers were strong and protective; maybe you'd even get to hear about their siblings. A perfect family in other words.

Me? I don't get that luxury. Maybe at one point my family may just very well have been like any others'—kind, welcoming, understanding and more—but that was a long, long time ago if it was ever so. Save for one person, none of the people related to me by blood are considered my family at all. Not even my own mother and father.

But I wasn't sad about that fact, maybe a bit angry, but I generally didn't feel much in regards to the situation. I mean, how can you feel anything for something that's never really existed for you?

The only reason I returned to my childhood home was for one reason and one reason alone, and trust me, it's one helluva special reason.

Finally, I came to a stop before a simple yet shabby-looking two-story house. Even from here, I could see that the periwinkle blue colored porch was slightly dusty, marginally tarnished with the paint peeling more in some area's than others. In fact, even the lonely white, wooden rocking chair that stood out there was practically unused, covered in grime and dust like all the windows of the building were. The grass on the front lawn was a green-yellow color that threatened to become more yellow than green if it wasn't watered soon. You could see the dry, cracking dirt peering out from in between the more sickly looking patches of grass. Altogether, a pretty morbid sight if I do say so myself.

Stepping from the black car, I shut the door with deliberate slowness before turning back to face the ramshackle place that had been my 'home' once upon a time.

While entertaining and a little uplifting, the last vestiges of calm I had felt while singing were now slowly abandoning me in the wake of the crushing pressure that seemed to descend on me as soon as I laid eyes on the house.

Sighing, I closed my eyes for a moment, rubbing the bridge of my nose and inhaling before exhaling with intentional slothfulness. "Welcome home, Aria," I told myself tiredly, not feeling at all welcome. And with that, I opened my grey eyes, squared my shoulders and began to march across the lawn towards the front door. (At least my leg had healed enough that I wasn't limping as much anymore. Otherwise that would have been disastrous).

I didn't make it very far though. Halfway across it, I only had time to resister the sound of the door being opened quickly and slammed shut with equal swiftness, before I was tackled to the ground by a golden blur.

"Big sister!"

Slowly opening my eyes, I was met with the sweet sight of a younger but definitely happier and scar-less version of myself, who was grinning down at me from her seat on my stomach.

"Hey, Izzy," I greeted with a slight wheeze, a natural smile gracing my features.

Izzy just hugged me tighter.

Meet my adorable younger sister, Isabella Bellemore. Long golden-blonde hair, fair features, and pale grey-green eyes that look a lot like mine, people have told me that she looks like a mini-version of me, and I guess it's true except without the extreme scarring or an almost permanent stoic expression, and her eyes have some green in them. Anyways, if there is one person in the entire universe that I absolutely adore, it's my baby sister here. She is the only light I have in my otherwise dark world, and I love her to death for that.

Climbing off of me, the little seven-year old girl beamed at me brightly, her eyes dancing with elation. Her whole body just seemed to positively vibrate with her ever-radiant emotions as she eagerly watched my slow progress at getting up.

"I knew you'd come, Ari. I just knew it," she gushed. "And I was right!"

"Well there goes my element of surprise," I sighed a tad dramatically. "You sure you aren't psychic or something, kid?"

"No," she said, giggling when I poked her in the side. "So?"

Careful not to accidentally knock Izzy over, I got up, brushing grass from my jeans and raised a brow at her. "'So' what?" I mimicked playfully, feigning cluelessness.

Pouting a bit, she narrowed her eyes at me in a glare. Of course, it didn't have much effect as the serious expression just ended up looking flat out adorable on her. "Where is it?"

"Where's what?" I asked, fighting the urge to chuckle as she stamped her foot impatiently.

"You know what," she insisted, that cute glaring frown still in place. Probably seeing as how she wasn't gonna get her way anytime soon though, Izzy tried another, more effective trick on me: the puppy-dog eyes.

"Ari," she whined, drawing out the vowel sounds. _God could those eyes get any bigger?_ "Please?"

I could just feel myself caving, and before I knew it, I broke and handed her a rather large but oddly soft and weighty package wrapped in colorful leaf green paper with a sky blue-turquoise ribbon and bow to tie it off. Those were her favorite colors: light green and sky blue.

"Happy birthday Isabella," I said watching the little girl feel the package and examining it with such scrutiny, you would have thought that she had developed x-ray vision.

"What is it?" she asked finally.

Rolling my eyes fondly, I merely smiled, gracing her with one of the few true expressions that I only reserved for her. "Open it. You'll find out soon enough."

A little hesitantly, she did so gasping when she saw what was inside.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! It's perfect! Oh thank you so much big sister! You're the best ever!" she jabbered excitedly, smiling hugely from ear to ear as she launched herself at me, nearly toppling me over again.

Inside the carefully wrapped box lay two things: a small book all about first aid and how to apply it and such, along with another, much larger tome, that went into the history of medicine. Yeah, I know that those probably don't seem like appropriate gifts for a normal seven-year-old—though now technically eight—but to Izzy it's a goldmine. Young in years, she may be, but Isabelle has a pretty sharp mind for a kid. I mean she freaking skipped two grades and is now a young but highly intelligent fourth-grader who is at the top of her class. But going back to the medical tomes I had gifted her; ever since I can remember, my baby sister has had her heart set out on becoming a doctor. And with her intelligence, I have absolutely no doubts that she could just very well do that.

"I'm glad you like it," I said, enjoying how genuinely happy and appreciative the girl was about the gift. "Did you get a chance to look at the T-shirts, too?"

"T-shirts?" the girl blinked in confusion before looking back at the wrapping paper mess. Hidden under the layer of colored paper and around the cardboard box like a protective layer, Izzy did indeed see the four t-shirts at last. Cautiously, the girl pulled them from the mess before taking time to examine the designs on each one. The first depicted the health and medical association logo on it in blue over a grey background. The other three were much more amusing though. They all said things like "Doctor in the house" and "For dealing with a highly irritable, grumpy and annoying patient like my big sister, I should get an award for being the best doctor of the century!" The last one even had a little heart with a pulse line going through it that said "Cute enough to stop your heart, skilled enough to restart it."

My little sister giggled some more, hugging me once more before gathering up all her new belongings and clutching them close to her body.

"Thank you Ari. You're the best sister ever!"

I smirked, ruffling her hair fondly like I would do with Rafael's on occasion and kissing her lightly on the brow. "You're welcome kiddo. It's the least I can do for my favorite baby sister."

"But sis, I'm you're only baby sister," she pointed out with a goofy grin, twirling a bit so that the skirt of her little light green and sky blue sundress fluttered.

 _Which I'm very much grateful for_ , I thought grimly, managing a soft chuckle at the look on Isabelle's face. "Fair point. Do you have your bags ready to go?"

She nodded brightly. "Uh-huh. I just need to pack a couple more things, and I'll be all ready to go."

Somehow, I managed to smile without grimacing at the thought of entering the house before me. Well, on a much happier note, at least I wouldn't have to remain in close proximity of said house much longer if things went my way. Of course, I didn't need to go splitting my face in two over that matter either. But those facts weren't important right now.

"Come on then, let's get you all packed up," I said, ushering her toward the slightly worn-looking building before me. _The sooner you are, the sooner we can get out of here_.

"Okay," she chirruped cutely, reminding me of Bumblebee slightly as she skipped into the house, leaving me to follow her from close behind.

Entering the dimly lit home, familiar scents washed over me as my eyes adjusted to the dark; old cigarette smoke, cheap perfume, stale takeout, and that specific scent that always seemed to hang around old people's homes. Faintly, I heard Isabelle tell me I could wait in the living room while she went and got her things before padding off.

When my eyes finally did adjust though, I found that not much had changed. Aside from the assorted cups of unknown liquids littered about, the furniture in the living room had barely moved and inch. The kitchen was in a similar state as the rest of the house; the sink full of dirty dishes, and the garbage can smelling as though it desperately needed to be taken out. The meager attempt at a dining room though was probably the cleanest out of all I had seen so far. The mahogany six person table was at least free of dust and there was only a single solitary web attached to the top of it that looked like its maker had abandoned it long ago.

Scanning all of this, I was hard pressed to shake off all the memories I had of this place before I ran away. The recollections that assaulted me were both bitter and sweet. Not bittersweet but just a mixed collection of both good and bad memories, a majority of the good one's pertaining to Isabelle while the others had to do with the _other_ occupants of the house. It didn't matter if it was just the positioning of furniture, the way the feeble light hit something from a certain angle, or even if it was just the overfilled garbage can; everything within sight was haunted by memories both good and bad.

—Flashback(s)—

"Aria! I don't give a fucking damn about your report card!"

…

"You useless girl! Get out of the way!"

…

"I told you to take out the trash!"

"No! I'll be good! Please don't take me there! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please!"

…

The brokenhearted sobs of a little girl sitting in a dim corner all alone and scared.

…

"But mama—!"

"Go away Aria!"

…

"I promise that I'll be the best big sister that you've ever had."

…

"Why mama? Why do you hate me so much?"

…

"You should never have existed in the first place!"

…

"Bwig sista!"

—Flashback(s) End—

I shook my golden head. Now was not the time or place to reminisce.

"So you're back," said a woman's from nearby, her voice as frosty as ever (and probably dropping the temperature in the room by about twenty degrees).

 _Speaking of which…_

"Hello, mother," I greeted stiffly once I had turned around to face the speaker. "And yes, I am but only for a little while."

My mother, or Layla Bellemore to those who are not family, was as beautiful as she was terrible. Long, dark midnight black hair that went a couple inches past her shoulders coupled with ice-blue eyes that contrasted with her flawless pale skin made her look every bit the dark beauty her name claimed her to be. Many a man had lusted after this woman and had either been sent packing with an uninterested flick of her perfectly manicured nails or had departed from a hotel room the next day feeling happily sated. Even after birthing a couple of kids (who were products of her many couplings with various men over the years), my mother still retained those perfectly good looks that many girls out there would kill for. But just because she gave birth to kids does not make her a mother in any sense or implication of the word. Trust me, beneath that veneer of serene and Aphrodite-like beauty, Layla Bellemore is definitely that furthest thing from mother material; she could make even the bitchiest cheerleader cry with just one frosty look that would have shattered a thermometer because of how cold it was. As a matter of fact, she could care less about us 'whelps'. I think the only reason she even kept me (and now Izzy) around was for child support funding because truth be told, she was the only woman I had met that could make good on all mothers' threat of "I brought you into this world; I can just as easily take you out of it."

She leveled me with a look that hit sub-zero before saying with a slight sniff, "Well be sure to take Isabella with you to wherever you are staying for the time. My boyfriend is coming over later and I don't want any interruptions." She glanced disdainfully at the interior of her messy home. "It's disgusting."

I did not look up. I didn't need to look up to know that she wasn't referring to the messy counter tops when she said that; she was looking directly at me.

Anyways, with those last parting words, she turned on her stilettoed heel and sauntered right back into the darkness of house.

That was it. No "good to see you" or "how are you doing's?" My ice cold mother just carelessly shunted all care of my baby sister into my hands as if she were yesterday's trash and left without another word; she had apparently not even bothered to remember that I had already told her I had planned to take my sister on a week-long trip. Of course, I'm not really trying to complain (as my mother had always acted like this to me), but I couldn't help the lingering feelings of…hurt? Disappointment? Defeat? Well whatever the emotion was, I certainly did not like how it just seemed to squeeze all my emotional, and even some of the physical strength, from my heart and body.

Every word she spoke to me felt like another lash of a whip or the sting of a blade across my skin. I could practically feel her disapproval of me, radiating off her in waves and crushing me with their might. No matter what I tried to do or what she said, good or bad, every uttered syllable felt like a physical injury to me. Why did I feel this way? Why did I feel like such...a disappointment? For some reason, whenever I was in close proximity of my mother, I felt both the need to strangle something (or someone) but also, at the same time, I wanted to find and crawl into the deepest, darkest hole I could find, curl up in a ball, and never come out again out due to fear and overwhelming self-loathing. Whatever it was, I hated it.

Still, how Izzy was related to that woman was a mystery to me; I could understand how I was but Izzy was another matter entirely.

With a distracted sigh, I made my way silently down the hall to my little sister's room.

"So you sure you're up for a little week-long sleepover with me, Izzy?" I asked, leaning on the door frame when I got there.

"Yes!" the little girl shrieked excitedly, flitting about her room like an overly large hummingbird without wings. Unlike the rest of the house, Izzy's room was definitely the cleanest. The windows were washed, the bed was made, the floor vacuumed and the shelves all recently dusted. Despite how simple and slightly bare it was, Isabelle's room could definitely have passed for one of those bedrooms you see depicted in one of those interior design magazines.

Watching as the mini-me tossed the last of her stuff into a little suitcase, which had definitely seen better days, and zip it up with some effort, Isabelle turned to me with one of her signature glowing smiles and said in a cheery, sing-song fashion, "I'm ready!"

I couldn't help but smirk; the expression of which bordered on becoming a full-blown smile. "Good. Now let's get out of here."

* * *

—Later—

Unlike some other states I've been in, I'd have to say that traffic in Arizona was pretty tame. There are no crazy motorcyclists weaving in and out of traffic like daredevil lunatics, signs for the next exit do not suddenly jump out at you when you are less than twenty meters from said exit ramp, and all the roads are pretty flat. Sure there are still the country bumpkins/Sunday drivers and the occasional person suffering from road rage but it's nothing extremely terrible. The most you have to watch out for are the rocks that occasionally pelt the windshield and the clogging traffic around rush hour. And at least I won't have to scrub an entire moss farm off my car either; all there is is dust.

"… _Cause I don't want to go home~_ ," came the sound of Nick Mulvey's slightly hushed voice through the radio as he sang his song "I Don't Want To Go Home."

Glancing up at the rearview mirror, my eyes softened slightly as I beheld the sight of my little sister sitting in the backseat, gazing out the window at the passing cars with her chin resting lightly on her fist, and quietly singing along with the song on the radio. _Man if only I had the time or patience, that image would make a lovely drawing_.

As if feeling my gaze, my baby sister looked over at me.

"So where are we going this time, big sister?" she prodded curiously.

"Well where do you wanna go, kiddo? You're the birthday girl after all."

She blinked a couple times. "I don't know. Do you know of any good places?"

Carefully, I thought for a moment before answering her. "Well the State Fair is in town, we could go there." The girl frowned a little so I continued on, knowing she would want to hear all her options before deciding. "There's also Castles'n'Coasters, Wet'n'wild, the zoo, and that Makutu's Island place." Still the girl frowned, none of the mentioned places really seeming to pique her interest. "Or we could go to ice-skating. There's also Westgate and later we could hit up Rawhide, that western themed town." I sighed a bit when I noticed her eyes did not light up once. "Come on, kiddo. There's got to be some place you're interested in."

I watched as her as those grey-green eyes of hers seemed to gain a faraway look, apparently lost in thought.

Patiently, I waited for her to come up with an answer.

Finally after a couple minutes she finally said, "Can we maybe go out into the desert and watch the stars please?"

She sounded so timid as she asked that, like she was afraid of my refusal or something. It was so utterly adorable and heart wrenching that I couldn't help the way my stone-cold heart seemed to melt a little.

"Of course," I acquiesced, enjoying how the timid look melted away to be replaced by hope and excitement.

"Really?" she asked, as if not believing her ears.

I smiled, nodding as much as I could while simultaneously keeping an eye on the road. "Uh-huh, and I'll tell you what. How about after we drop off our bags at our hotel room, I take us somewhere special to get some pizza like Organ Stop Pizza? Does that sound good to you?"

By now Izzy was practically bouncing around in her seat; the seatbelt the only thing that was keeping her safely in place. "Hell yes! Now please turn the music up sis!"

Still wearing the natural smile that seemed to only come about when I was with my baby sister, I did as requested, allowing Bon Jovi's "Lost Highway" to fill the vehicle and even singing along somewhat at my sister's insistence.

I didn't care if someone saw me because in my opinion, seeing that smile on my sisters face was totally worth it.

* * *

—Later, Hotel Room—

Gently placing the unconscious form of my sister in the plush hotel bed and tucking her in, I took in the girl's utterly peaceful expression, quietly marveling at how innocent she looked.

 _If only I could keep her that way, ignorantly innocent smile and all_ , I thought wistfully, placing a soft kiss on her unmarred brow before heading towards the bathroom to take a shower.

As I have said before, my little sister Isabelle was the light of my life. When I had found out about her birth and looked at her for the first time, I had promised myself right then and there that I would protect her and try to raise her to the best of my abilities. It was safe to say that over time I had become more like a mother to her than just merely a sister.

But I wanted to make sure that my little sister got a normal as possible childhood unlike my virtually nonexistent childhood. She did not need to go through what I had.

I shook my head, a defiant and stubborn look entering my grey eyes. No, even if it was the last thing I did, my sister Isabella Bellemore would not be forced to mature at the rapid pace like I had for some time yet.

Anyways, you're probably wondering a bunch of things at this point like, if we're related, why did I have a different last name than my mother and sister? Or, what is really so terrible about my mother? And why did I run away in the first place?

Well first off, my last name wasn't originally Slade-Cage. I had actually decided to change it sometime after I initially ran away from that home. You see, changing my name was not just merely an attempt to escape my family. It was a statement. I kept my first name so as to make sure that if I ever came back for them, they would remember who I was. But by throwing out my surname, I had cut all other attachments to them, disassociating all my connections with them to show that they can't own me. Instead, I had donned the names of two individuals who had helped me the most during my first few months on the street as without their teachings I certainly would have died or ended up in a worse condition. These old hands, who were sorta the 'Virgil-to-your-Dante' types, had given me the tools and survival skills which enabled me to endure several years out on the bleak harshness of the streets. So by adopting the names of those two and taking those as my surname, I was kind of honoring them in a sense while at the same time being defiant to the ways of my parents.

Any who, as for those last two questions…well you should know that it was my mother who had given me those slash-marks across my face in the first place.

—Flashback—

"You useless, stupid, ungrateful little whelp! I give you food, clothes and a roof over your head and this is how you repay me?!" Layla screeched at the quivering form of the seven (nearly eight) year old Aria.

At the time, she had looked much like Isabella—so much so that she could have passed off as the girl's twin if Isabelle had existed at the time—her grey eyes wide and still somehow retaining a look of pure infantile innocence even with that dark, haunted look they currently held too.

It had only been a little over a half a year since Raoul's death, and her uncaring father had decided in the end to dump her off into the (nonexistent) care of her ice-cold mother. He hadn't even bothered to consider sending her to therapy—not that he ever would anyways—and instead he had just pawned off her care to a woman who had probably never seen so much as a dirty diaper (not including her own when she was a baby) in her life and basically swept Aria under the rug like a minor problem, apparently deeming caring for his own daughter too much of a nuisance.

A sentiment in which her heartless mother apparently agreed with as she had taken one look at Aria, sniffed disdainfully, and asked if she really had to take care of 'it'.

Still traumatized by the events, little Aria had been left completely unprepared for living with the Dark Ice Queen as she eventually came to call the woman. Rendered quiet and slightly jumpy, little Aria soon came to realize just how much her mother despised her. It seemed like every chance the woman got; she took it upon herself to belittle Aria as much as possible, pointing out all her flaws, saying how useless the little girl was, and turning her into her personal slave, housekeeper, and anger outlet all in one.

Aria received no pity or comfort from the cruel woman; often awaking in the middle of the night to nightmares with no one to be there to comfort her and instead receiving the harsh command to "Shut the fuck up" lest her mother kick her out of the house for the night.

Soon enough, Aria began to grow cold under the Ice Queen's treatment.

It wasn't until that fateful night when Layla Bellemore had a bad day and practically blew up on Aria since she was the only available target—that things took a turn for the worse. She didn't remember what exactly had set the woman off at the time. All she knew was that the woman had this positively maniac look in her eyes that could only be described as pure madness, somehow managing to look both beautiful and terrible at the same time.

Whatever the catalyst had been that had gotten the woman in such a towering temper, Layla used Aria as her emotional outlet, continuously screeching on and on at the young Aria about how ungrateful the little girl was, telling her how useless she was, and generally making the love-starved girl feel like nothing.

"Mama, I'm sorry!" Aria had sobbed hysterically. "I—!"

* _Smack!_ *

Stumbling a little under the force of the hit, the little girl's grey eyes were the size of a pair of Gatorade caps, shock written on every feature. It had been the first time ever that Layla had hit her.

Expression thunderous, the dark and terrible beauty snarled out in a positively lethal tone, "Shut up! I am not your mother! You are nothing more than a waste of space!" Taking a menacing step forward, the woman fixed Aria in place with a glacious expression. Showing a surprising amount of strength for one who never did any heavy lifting, Layla violently grabbed Aria by the hair, earning a yelp of pain from the youth as she forced the little girl to look at her. "Look at me when I'm talking to you! Do you hear me?!"

The dark-haired woman smacked her again and Aria quickly nodded, eyes wide and fearful and full of tears.

"Stop crying you disgusting brat!" The woman smacked her across the face again, thrice more.

By now, both of Aria's cheeks were colored a violently bright crimson-color from the abuse and her grey eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed from crying.

She did not understand. How could her mother do this to her?

Growling, the furious woman tossed the little girl against a wall like an oddly shaped bowling ball. Gasping silently out of both pain and surprise, little Aria watched fearfully as her mother stalked toward her, thunder in her every step.

Frozen in fear, Aria only had time to scream once as Layla Bellemore furiously raked her sharp nails across her daughter's terrified face, before passing out not a second later.

—End Flashback—

Heaving a tremulous sigh, I carefully wiped steam away from the fogged up mirror in the bathroom; sights immediately falling upon the physical evidence of my mother's hatred of me. Scarcely blinking, I brought a shaking hand to the left side my face, brushing it over the four parallel claw marks that stretched diagonally across my face, going from a spot near the middle of my forehead, across the brow and lid of my left eye and stopping just short of the lobe of my left ear; in similar horrifying gruesomeness, another almost perfectly horizontal scar ran across my face from one cheek bone to the other.

 _Fight with a dragon my ass_ , I thought with a mental grumble, averting my eyes from my own reflection. _More like the woman that was so foul that Hell spat her back out and even the Devil himself would not take her as a wife since she made him look like a saint_.

When I had awoken again mere hours after I first passed out, I woke to myself alone in the dark house. Layla was nowhere to be seen, but I knew it all hadn't been a dream. A truth of which was attested to by the fact that blood was everywhere and I could barely open my left eye without agony. Face raw and red, I had somehow miraculously managed to get to my room even with only the use of one eye and some serious effort. An hour later I had all my (meager) worldly possessions and a bunch of other stuff packed in a suitcase; I was gone long before dawn.

Truth be told, when I had left that day, I had every intention to never ever go back to that hell hole. I would have preferred to freaking kiss the ass of every politician and bureaucrat there was out there or be seen on national television running buck-ass nude across the lawn of the White House, dancing and singing "I'm sexy and I know it" at the top of my lungs—than go back to that place. It wasn't until I had known Jack for at least year that my friend Moz had told me about the birth of my little sister, Isabella.

Anyways, so by now you're probably wondering why I don't take my precious baby sister away from that hell-hole for good, right? Trust me, I ask myself that question every single damn time. And every time, I have an answer waiting.

As much as I would love to take Isabelle home with me to Jasper, I couldn't do that to her. I lived in a glorified shack for Pete's sake! I could not—I _would not_ , force her to endure that. That was no place for a child to grow up.

And let's not forget my frequent absences and less-than-legal activities. My life was constantly in danger, no matter if I was in Jasper or the slums of some other city. What would happen if one of my enemies found out about her? I may as well toss the sweet girl into a meat grinder and just get it over with.

Even if she somehow miraculously managed to stay under the radars of those who wanted to see me dead—which was next to impossible—Izzy would have to put up with my sudden, unexplained absences and I couldn't just leave her like that! Once you get into the things I'm in, there's almost no way of backing out without arousing suspicion aside from dying. All the more reason not to have Isabelle live with me as sad as it is.

Besides, despite all the carelessness my mother no doubt showed her, she and others would never physically harm Isabella. Not like my mother had done to me when I was little; I had made sure of it.

Shuddering at the reminder, my thoughts took another turn as I noiselessly stepped out of the bathroom and glanced at Isabella's sleeping form.

A pained, melancholy smile alit on my heavily scarred features. At least here she could be happy. Here, she could be an innocent child, ignorant of the dangers of the real world. That was something I had never really gotten a chance to enjoy—at least not for very long, and I was determined to have my sister get the very best care.

My smile turned more bittersweet. If there was another way I could take care of her and keep her safe, I would probably go that route in a heartbeat. I sighed softly, making my way over to my own bed. But there wasn't. So at least at the moment, I was content with the way things were…for now.

With that thought in mind, I flicked off the bedside lamp and soon fell asleep.

* * *

—Dream—

 _Many different bots of various heights, colors, shapes and frame types milled about. But only one mech in particular stood out from the crowd. He was not the tallest, nor overly bulky. In fact, the red and blue mech seemed a little on the lean side but not ridiculously so. He just seemed…cleaner than the rest of the mech's, femme's, and unidentifiable's; all the others looked like they could use a good wash, repaint, and waxing (especially some more than others). Looking around, none of the other bots looked familiar, nor did any of them bare either Decepticon or Autobot insignias. Still, the mech certainly looked better than his metal surroundings, which looked like they had definitely seen better days._

 _However, the strangest thing about this particular mech was that he looked vaguely familiar. With his royal blue helm and a scarlet red painting the majority of the rest of his frame, the answer to his identity seemed just out of reach. But his face was turned the other direction so there was no telling for sure._

 _But could it be…?_

 _Twisting to get out of the way of a much larger cybertronian, there was the barest flash of crystalline blue optic with a hint of sapphire._

 _Was that…? No it couldn't be. But he looked so much like him._

 _Journeying onward and trailing behind in the mech's tracks, he seemed to be kind of nervous, timid almost if his body language was anything to go by. He even looked a little lost at one point, but he pushed forward._

 _As he moved deeper into the city (from the looks of it), the sights didn't get much better. In fact, they seemed to steadily grow worse. It was much akin to those parts of cities that can only be described as the slums; except it seemed like that term could apply to this entire city._

 _Eventually, the familiar looking red-and-blue mech arrived at his destination: an arena. And not just any old arena from the sounds of it; it was a gladiatorial arena. Even from this distance, the roars, yells and jeers of the crowds from the gigantic stadium shook the very earth._

 _Why did the mech want to go here?_

 _If anything, as he gazed up at the looming building, which looked as if it was a cross between a sea anemone and some monster's funnel-like mouth straight from the bowels of hell, the mech seemed to grow even more nervous just standing in its shadow. But despite all that, the mech did not turn tail and flee the other direction. Instead, much to any onlooker's surprise, he gained a steely, stubborn look in his hauntingly familiar optics, seeming to gather his courage and stand a little straighter, shoulders squared, before marching straight towards the demonic-looking arena._

 _Entering through one rather not-so-appealing arch, it looked for a moment as though he was going to join the jeering crowd below until he took an unexpected turn_ _down a darker path that led to a downwards-sloping flight of steps_ _._ _The blackness seemed to blur things_ _for a brief period, but several more confusing turns later, the mech was standing in a dark-ish room with a door that looked as though it much just very well lead onto the arena floor itself. He couldn't seriously be thinking about going out there, could he?_

 _Thankfully, he did not and instead seemed to be waiting for something…or someone. The surrounds seemed to blur briefly, but then next second the hatch to the arena swung open and revealed..._

 _Why the hell did this mech look like a freaking younger, blue-opticed Megatron?!_

 _Whoever he was, the Megatron look-alike_ _seemed surprised that he had a visitor._

" _Good orn to you_ _, sir. You are Megatronus, correct?" the red-and-blue mech asked_ _politely_ _in a timid but surprisingly deep voice. Holy Hell! He even sounded like him! But that could not be right; his frame, while admittedly quite similar to his, was still a little different than his. But then why—?_

" _Yes," the Megatron look-alike confirmed in a voice that was a little less raspy than the Decepticon warlord's but still eerily similar in speech pattern, tone, and timbre. Anyways, the large sliver-grey mech shot the smaller mech a curious but still slightly cautious look, thick optic ridge raised. He seemed slightly wary of the blue-helmed mech but still puzzled by his presence; he definitely didn't seem to know what to think of the other mech just yet, that was for sure. "And what is your designation?"_

 _Had he been human, the younger mech likely would have been blushing under such scrutiny. As it was, he just shuffled nervously a bit on his pedes before opening his mouthplates and saying, "It is a pleasure to meet you. My designation is Orion Pax."_

* * *

—Five Day's Later—

A couple days, and many adventures with my sister, later, I found the time with my younger sibling coming to an end all too soon. Still, at least it had been admittedly enjoyable. After the first day, we had taken to going just about every fun and exciting place that Arizona had to offer: visiting the vastness of the Grand Canyon, going up to red rock valley of Sedona, even going stargazing both at Lowell Observatory and out in the middle of the desert with nobody for miles around. It was safe to say that just about every night we collapsed onto our beds in exhaustion and fell asleep almost immediately after.

Still I was sad to know a this would be ending tomorrow when I had to drop Isabella back off at our mother's house and go back home. A fact that made me feel physically nauseous.

Bitterly, I thought back to all the times I had heard other people complain about their parents or family or their lack thereof. In truth, they actually had it better than most people. Why should they even complain? They certainly didn't have that right in my eyes considering what I had endured.

I sighed softly, staring out the window of the restaurant at all the passing people scurrying too and fro.

Then again, they didn't know any better. Being more or less born with a silver spoon, they didn't have that experience. They didn't have _my_ experience. And I almost envied them for their ignorance. Almost.

"Hey big sis?" called a small voice, drawing me back to reality from my morbid-melancholy thoughts.

Blinking, I looked over at the smaller form of my little sister, who was nervously playing with her food, stirring her french fries in a glob of ketchup on her plate but not eating it.

"What's up kiddo?" I asked softly.

She seemed to have trouble meeting my eyes, and again I was reminded of how much we looked alike yet didn't at the same time: long golden blonde hair that was perfectly straight and reached down to tickle her tailbone but no symbolical red-and-blue bangs, fair features that were delicate and held a sort of appealing natural beauty but no scars, and intelligent green-grey eyes but hers were lighter and possessed a more optimistic quality than my pure cynical, cement-colored pessimism. So similar yet different.

"I-I was wondering if you could tell me more about your new friends. You know, the ones you told me about before," she said, meeting my eyes for a brief moment before looking down at her food again.

"Hmmm."

During our conversations over the phone, I had told Izzy a bit about Team Prime. None of them had been mentioned my name—that some of them were aliens—but Izzy had seemed genuinely interested to hear more about them though she had never said anything before now.

"I-it's okay if you don't want to," she began stuttering.

I held up a hand, silencing her. "No, it's okay. I'm just not sure what I can tell you about them. Most of them are more like associates then friends." I paused muttering a quiet, "that is if some of them even consider me a friend."

Immediately at the prospect of learning more, Izzy visibly perked up. "That's okay. I just want to knew a bit about what they are like. You don't talk about them much."

I smiled, popping another fry into my mouth and swallowing, before taking a sip of my soda. "Well let's see here," I began slowly, putting on a thoughtful expression. I needed to be careful about how I go about this. "Well there's the two youngest of our little circle: Rafael Esquievel, or just Raf for short, and Ben Bumble," I said, randomly inventing a human name for Bumblebee on the spot. "Raf and Ben, or Bee as we like to call him, are pretty cool guys. They're both pretty young—" _at least I think Bee is considered young in cybertronian terms._ " _—_ but they're pretty smart, too. Not to mention brave," I added, thinking of Bee's willingness to go into Megatron's mind to save Optimus, and Raf's bravery when confronted with Megatron during the event where the warlord was resurrected. (Surprisingly, Ratchet had been the one to tell me that story, not quite using the word 'brave' itself but definitely implying how courageous the kid had been). Clearing my throat a bit, I continued on. "Despite his height, Raf is like this mini prodigy hacker kid that can do just about anything with a computer from the looks of it. And Bee is like his older brother but with a serious need for speed and love of racing. A lot of the time you can find those two playing video-games, especially the racing ones. Trust me, those two are like two peas in a pod, both loyal to each other and their friends."

Glancing over, I noticed how Izzy seemed to be just lapping up the info I was giving her, absorbing my descriptions of Raf and Bee like a sponge in water.

Internally smiling, I kept talking. "Anyways, then there's the other tight-knit pair in our group: Bucky Gila and Miko Nakadai."

"Isn't she that transfer student from Japan you told me about?" Izzy prodded recognizing the name.

I nodded. "Yep, that's resident wild child."

I guess must have let my opinion of the show on my face because Izzy asked me concernedly, "Do you not get along with them or something?"

I had to hold back a derisive snort at that one; 'not get along' didn't even cover it. Instead, I just massaged the bridge of my nose, already feeling the oncoming headache from just thinking of the duo. "They're quite...loud." Severe understatement? Yes, but true nonetheless. "They're almost always playing loud screamo music—" Even Izzy grimaced at the mention of the music type, holding no love for the genre just like me. "—and doing some stupid stunts to get an adrenaline rush. I guess I should just be thankful that while Bucky has more muscles than brains, at least he tries to stop Miko from attempting anymore of her more incredibly stupid stunts.

"Still, Bucky at least has his heart in the right place most of the time, even if he prefers to think more with his fists than his head. Unfortunately, the big guy is a bit of a klutz and with his abundant strength, is more prone to accidentally crushing objects that may be in hand at the time. I think it's part of what makes resident wild child and him such great friends."

"They don't sound like very safe people to be around," Izzy commented with a wrinkled nose.

I barked out a laugh at that one, causing some of the other patrons in the restaurant to shoot me dirty looks but I paid them no mind. "They aren't. I mean Miko actually goes looking for trouble, trying to get her daily fix of adrenaline and excitement and never thinking of the consequences. That's actually part of why I don't go out of my way to interact with them."

"She doesn't sound like the sharpest pencil in the box. Is she brain damaged or something?"

Another snort of laughter escaped me, earning me more dirty looks from my fellow customers. "I wouldn't put it past her." I cleared my throat. "Anyways, who else…? Oh, yeah, Araceli! You remember me telling you about Jack, right?"

The little girl nodded, gesturing for me to go on.

"Well it was actually those two meeting that brought us all together, but that's a story for another time. Anywho, Araceli is definitely a unique one even if her background, from what I gathered, is a bit of a sad tale. She may be shorter than some of the guys in our group, but that does not make her any less of a capable warrior. Unfortunately, with all that fighting experience comes a hefty toll. I do not know the exact details but I do know that she has lost a fair few close friends."

"Oh that's so sad," Isabelle gasped, eyes wide and sparking a little.

I chuckled fondly at her overabundance of empathy for people; her caring knew no bounds. "Don't worry your head about it too much, kiddo. I know that girl is strong. Even with those losses weighing her down, it's almost amazing how tall she can stand. Fierce, somewhat reckless, and kinda gruff, even if she wasn't as strong as I know she is, Jack's presence seems to help her cope, if only a little. Actually, I think he's the only one of us that can claim as to having a really special connection with Araceli, and those two are definitely friends for the better."

Taking another sip from my soda, I felt the carbonated drink slide down my throat.

"Cool," Izzy gasped. "Who else is there?"

I sighed dramatically. "Well I am trying to tell you here."

She ducked her head; cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment. "Sorry."

Chuckling, I reached over and ruffled her hair slightly. "It's okay squirt. Now where was I? Oh yeah, the group's medic." I did not miss how Isabelle's eyes brightened at the last word. Picking my next words with great care, I began slowly, "I would have to say that Ray Childs is a difficult person to understand if you don't understand the stresses of a medical profession. He may be the eldest person in the group and come off as gruff and uncaring, but deep down, Ray cares deeply about each and every one of his patients, especially the younger ones from what I have seen." By now my younger sisters expression was torn between admiration, excitement and longing. _Ooh, Ratchet's got a fan_. "However, he has a deep seeded loathing for others pulling what he deems stupid stunts that get them hurt and is often at war with Bucky who has an unfortunate habit of crushing his tools. Everyone, both fears and respects him, not wanting to be on the receiving end of the medical tools he tends to throw when he gets cranky."

By now Isabelle was giggling lightly. "He's probably like that because no one listens to his advice."

I smirked at that. "I don't mind him, and I think you'd get along quite well with him, too. As a matter of fact, I think the only other person he holds a lot of respect for is the leader of our group. Which brings me to the last member: O…Orion Pax," I supplied, changing Optimus' human name at the last minute as my dream from the other night came to mind.

Brows lightly furrowed, I pushed on. "He's kinda hard to describe. But if I had to try, I would have to say he's the very definition of a perfect leader. Though he has some faults, he's still a very good person. Orion almost never gets angry, but he never yells if he does. Kind and compassionate, if a tad soft-spoken, he is considerate and always helps his comrades, putting their needs before his own. Never once has he forced me to speak about or do something I don't want to. Loyal to a fault, courageous, understanding; he has definitely earned the respect every one else shows him, including myself. Bluntly speaking, I think he's one of the few truly decent beings out there. If he were a book, I would definitely want to read his story."

My sister grinned at me, and I wasn't until I fully looked her in the eyes that I realized that I was smiling too.

"He sounds nice," Isabelle said as one of the servers came over and handed me the check.

I nodded. "He most definitely is."

There was silence for a moment before Isabella suddenly asked me out of the blue, "'ria is he your friend?"

Unlike most people, my baby sister at least somewhat understood what true friendship meant to me.

A couple seconds went by as I stared out the window some more, not answering and somewhat preoccupied with my thoughts. But when I finally did, I simply said a quiet, "Yes."

"Good."

* * *

Seeing as how this would be our last day together, Izzy and I decided to go shopping. It wasn't so much as an Olympic sport that most girly girls make it out to be, but the results were rather amusing as we gawked at displays, took interest in curious items and occasionally tried on various outfits.

I remember laughing even a little as Izzy grabbed some clothes from some shelves and hangars, disappeared into the fitting room, and returned a minute later wearing a white spaghetti tank top, black leather jacket, skinny jean with a couple holes in them, and tiny leather boots, declaring that she was me, much to my amusement. I even bought the entire outfit for her, just for fun, though it would be difficult for her to wear the jacket and boots for most of the year since three-quarters of the time Arizona has nothing but hot weather.

Despite our slightly achy feet (and my complaining foot and ankle), we were having a blast. That is until it all came tumbling down when a familiar voice said mockingly, "Well if it isn't the bitch and the brat."

I froze. _This cannot be happening._

Standing to my left were three equally gorgeous women, but I knew that despite their looks, they were anything but pretty in personality.

 _The Bitch Brigade was here._

The tallest one, who had spoken first, was much like her mother with fair features, high cheek bones, dark brown eyes, full red lips, and dark hair that stopped short just an inch below her shoulder blades. There were a couple red highlights hidden among the dark brunette locks that would look good to any other person. To me however, the rubicund color made it appear as though she had blood pouring from her head. Morbid but true.

Still, with her designer clothes that brought out her highlights, perfect makeup and unnecessary black stiletto-heels, she could have very well have been a model or someone's very pretty business manager.

"Language, Vivian," I snapped, glaring at her and her little posse. I was so very glad that we had decided to stop and let Izzy play with the other kids here at the mall. At least then she wouldn't hear the colorful words and threats that were about to be thrown around.

"Ooo, isn't that cute," the one on the left sneered, causing me to direct my glare towards her.

Unlike Vivian and myself, she was a lot shorter, with perfectly curled bleached blonde hair that tickled her shoulders, long, thick lashes, and pretty light blue eyes. But for what she lacked in height, she more than made up for with perfect curves that could make any man or woman drool. She had on a lovely shade of purple eyeshadow that looked nice with her body-hugging purple dress that had bubblegum pink edges and pink band around her middle.

"Lucia," I called to her coolly, "do you like your make-up the way it is? Because I will gladly apply some new colors to it. Say some black and blue, maybe."

The sneer immediately dropped from the blonde-haired girls' features, her flawless, shoulder-length curls seeming to lose their bounce as well.

The one on the right, with slightly darker skin that showed her Latino heritage, and dyed black hair with roots colored an ugly burnt orange color—rolled her hazel eyes in disgust. "Oh please, you wouldn't dare with all these people here," she said, gesturing around.

A smirk curled the corner of my lips. "Glad to see you still aren't as dumb a you look Carmen," I retorted. "Still, I never said that I would do it now. After all, I do know where you guys sleep."

A savage snarl twisted her face, eyes flashing as she snarled out, "It's Carmella."

"Right, right," I waved off carelessly in a bored tone, trying my best to appear as though their very presence didn't make me want to hit something.

You know how I said my mom had kids, plural as in more than just Izzy and I? As in we have a couple…siblings? Well this would be them: the gruesome twosome and their bitch leader, or as I prefer to refer to them as, the Bitch Brigade. Not one of them was even remotely ugly in the physical sense as I said before, having inherited our mother's genes and all, but all three of them definitely had ugly personalities in my opinion.

So yeah, meet my lovely—note heavy sarcasm—older sisters: Vivian (the eldest), Carmen or Carmella as she liked to be called (the second oldest), and Lucia Bellemore(the third oldest) who was also only a couple years older than I was. Sad as it is to say, I seriously was not kidding when I said our mother was a whore (and a narcissistic one at that). Thankfully though, while all three of us did share the same mother, we all had different fathers, meaning I was only half-related to them, which to me was a blessing; I still had no idea if Izzy shared the same father as I did or not, considering how alike we looked. All the same though, just because we shared some blood did not mean that I shared a good relationship with any of them; they had spent most of their time bitch-bossing me around when I was younger.

Anyways, cruel and spiteful like our mother, these three were still small-fry compared to Layla. Of course, that didn't make them any less of the cruel cheerleaders that they were.

As though it had been rehearsed, Vivian sneered at me, her little group of lackey's doing the same. Gods how they reminded me of the Plastics from that movie _Mean Girls_ ; the similarities between the two were almost astonishing.

"What are you doing here, runt?" she demanded in what was supposed to be an icy tone, though still nothing like our mother's full-on blizzard tone.

Ah, and I see that we were back to the old nickname again, which consisted of the Bitch Brigade either calling me 'Runt' or 'Reject', and on occasion 'Grease-stained freak'. Lucky for me I could return the favor

"What does it matter to you, leech?" I fired back, crossing my arms over my chest and taking up a position that would appear casual yet would allow me to fight freely if need be. "Am I interrupting your gossip time with blonde bimbo and burnt orange?"

Eyes flashing in anger, she managed to wrinkle her nose disgustedly and say, "No, we were just wondering what the bad smell was. I should have known it was you."

"Ugh, it smells like trash," Carmella added with a wicked gleam in her eyes, theatrically pinched her nose as Lucia covered her mouth with her perfectly manicured hand and made gagging noises.

"How gross," the blonde chimed in.

Much to their surprise, I did not get angry and start throwing punches at the trio—I wouldn't have needed to anyways since all it would have taken was a soft tap on the nose to hurt them—and instead just raised a brow. "Is that what I was smelling earlier? And here I thought it was too much designer perfume."

I didn't hold back the amused twinkle that entered my eye when a faint red hue entered Vivian's pale cheeks, as evidence of her rage; dark brown eyes glaring at me murderously. Gods, I had forgotten how easy it was to rile her up.

Unsurprisingly though, the other two didn't get the subtle insult, instead looking visibly confused as they glanced at each other, then at Vivian; they barely had enough brains between the two of them to fill even half of a blank page of paper.

Finally though, Vivian drew herself up to her full height and said with a disdainful sniff in my direction, "Come on girls. Let's get out of this dump." And with that, all three members of the Bitch brigade turned on their two-hundred dollar high-heels and strutted away, heads held high as though they were royalty or something.

I snorted at the thought, turning back to the area where Izzy was still playing. _Royalty my ass._ The day any one of those three start wearing a real crown is the day Layla Bellemore's ice-cold heart melts and she starts donating all her designer clothes to charity.

* * *

—The Next Day—

Standing before my former childhood home, the dreaded had finally arrived, coming much too quickly for both Izzy's and my liking. My sweet, younger sister would continue staying with the Ice Queen, and I would be going back to boring old Jasper, Nevada, where I could only call her on occasion and not see her until Winter break at the very least unless something came up.

"Can't you stay, big sister?" Isabella pleaded like she always did when I had to leave. She looked so sad, totally opposite of her usual buoyant personality. Shoulders slightly hunched and a couple strands of golden-blonde hair hanging in her face, Izzy watched me with those large—even more so than usual—and very sad grey-green eyes that glistened with unshed tears. "Please?"

"Izzy," I sighed softly, almost tearing up a little myself. Why did this always have to be so painful? I wish I could just pack all of her things away into my Charger and take her back to Jasper with me. But I couldn't and that was the way things had to be.

Kneeling down so that I was level with her face, I let my mask fade away, giving her the softest look I could muster and reaching out to gently stroke my baby sister's soft, unmarred cheek with my slightly rougher thumb. The next thing I knew I was pulling Isabelle into a fierce hug as though she would prove to be merely a mirage if I let go.

"Oh sweet Isabella, I would take you back with me if I could," I whispered softly, stroking the back of her head, more for my own comfort than hers. "But I can't."

"Why?" she asked, drawing back a little to look into my eyes.

I shook my head. "Maybe one day I will tell you, but not today, sweetheart."

Reluctantly, she nodded, maturely accepting the fact that I could not tell her anything just yet.

I gave her one of my full blown smiles that only she was privy to. "While I can't stay, I promise you Isabelle that I will always come back for you. But in the meantime," I said, reaching behind me and pulling out a neatly wrapped brown paper package that I gently pushed into her hands. "I want you to have this. Don't open it just yet; I want you to unwrap it when I leave, but promise me that you'll keep in touch and that you'll follow the instructions I left inside to keep it hidden from mom. Okay?"

Blinking rapidly, the sweet little girl before me launched herself at my figure, shoulders shaking slightly as she cried and said softly, "I promise big sister."

With equal reluctance on both of our parts, the two of us let go of each other.

I only stayed long enough to watch Izzy enter the house before quickly getting in the Charger and driving away. The further and further away I got from my beautiful baby sister though, the more it felt like my heart was being ripped in two. Was this how some soldiers felt when left their families to go on tour? Was parting always this painful?

To my left, in the passenger's side seat, my phone vibrated, alerting me to a new text message. It too a bit but after some hesitance, I carefully took one hand off the steering wheel, reached over to pick it up, and flipped the little black device open, glancing at the road before reading the device.

 _ **Thank you so much for the new phone, 'ria! U R the best! I love you, and I can't wait to see you again and I promise to call you soon. Please, tell your friends I say 'Hi', especially that Orion Pax guy.—**_ Isabella

I would see her again and maybe this time I would have a way to take her home with me. But for now, I would have to stay away from the sweet little light that I coveted and made the darkness I resided in, worth it.

Maybe one day but not yet.

And with that thought, I let the tears flow, all restraint gone.

* * *

Well, I hope you all enjoyed that. You have no idea how long I've been wanting to introduce Isabella. Isn't she just the sweetest thing? Yeah I know that I probably suck at creating seven/eight-year-old's but I'm an only child and I don't remember how I acted when I was that age. Not to mention that almost all of my family is older than me and I'm actually not overly fond of most babies and little kids, with the exception of the more well-behaved ones. Still, I hope you all enjoyed learning more about the ever-mysterious Aria Slade-Cage and thought Izzy was cute. I wanted her to seem a little more intelligent as a little kid, kinda like Aria was at that age. Still, if you liked Izzy, you will be pleased to know that she will crop up more in later chapters, as will a certain Ice Queen and spawn.

Please Review, Favorite, and Follow so as to keep the review monster at bay. The 5-review thing still applies but I may update sooner if time allows and I am feeling generous. (Review HiNT hiNt).

And check out my polls! I will be changing my currently posted one soon.

See ya!


	19. Suspicions

Thank you once again to all who reviewed, favorited and followed! You guys are the best. I'd especially like to acknowledge **Guest (1)** , **Transformers fan** , **Aloris2.0 the great** , **Person** , and **Guest (2)**. Seriously, without you guys reviewing, this new chapter would not have come out today when it did. So pat yourselves on the back for me, will ya?

Finally, I'd like to acknowledge a good friend of mine (who wishes to remain anonymous) because without their help, I would still be trying to figure out how to create an official looking document. So please give my awesome friend a hand.

 **Disclaimer:** You all know the drill. I do not own Transformers Prime. At all. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 19: Suspicions**

—Unknown Location, Night—

Dodging to the left, I just barely had time to roll away from the hit that my opponent landed on my jaw. Of course, while he didn't land a direct hit, that still didn't make it hurt any less. Staggering, I felt as a bit of blood dribbled down.

 _Yeah that's definitely gonna bruise._

Widening my stance, I sneered savagely at my opponent, wiping away the blood with the back of my fist.

Around the ring, I could hear the raucous shouting of the crowd, whooping and hollering for bloodshed. So focused on the man before me, they all sounded far away and almost muffled like I had cotton in my ears or was hearing them from across the other side of Lake Champlain.

Glaring at the man before me who had hair the color of steel, I took a swing at him, grunting when he landed a hit to my gut.

"Oooh! That's gotta hurt! The Queen seems to be off her game tonight! Will she be able to keep her title?"

Stumbling, I didn't give up hope or pay the MC any mind. Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I dove right back into the fight with a vengeance. As if I had been given a shot of caffeine, my once tired movements became sharper, more calculating and precise. Sweat still poured down my face, but I was still strong. It was as if some switch in my brain had been flipped, and I had become a whole new person.

Faster than a viper's strike, I lashed out with my fist once more like I was going to try to hit the man before. However, at the last second, I pulled back, whirled around, twisting precariously on one foot with all the grace of a dancer, and slammed my foot into his cheek.

Spitting out a glob of blood, the muscular man cursed and glared at me, which only elicited a smirk to alight on my lips.

 _Just returning the favor, Hon._

With all the intelligence of a predator waiting for the right moment to strike, my eyes tacked his movements carefully. I could feel all the muscles in my body that were coiled and tense, waiting in anticipation. Slowly like some intricate dance, the two of us circled each other, tension palpable even over the roar of the crowd.

And then we were back at it: trading blows, dodging hits, trying to find an opening in the other's defense. When I would manage to elbow him in the gut, the dark haired guy would sweep my feet out from under me. When he would go to kick me in the ribs, I would catch his foot and yank him off-balance. I had to admit that this guy was pretty good. But I was better; I had to be.

Finally, I found it: his weak point. Every fighter has one, no matter how skilled, be it physical or psychological. And this guy, while definitely a commendably competent fighter, was about it go down. I just had to time it just right.

"Wow! They're cutting it close folks! Will one triumph over the other?" the announcer shouted into the mic.

Zeroing in on the spot, I watched as the man bounced lightly on the tips of his feet, shifting from left to right foot in a boxer-like fashion. He was tiring a bit from such actions, but not enough for me to run him down and eventually make him slip up. No, the route I was going to take him down was much more different. Although slight, if you looked closely enough, you could see how he leaned slightly forward when he shifted to his left foot, like he was unconsciously trying to relieve his foot of some of his body weight. If I had to guess, I would say that it was likely from an old foot or leg injury or something of the like.

Still, it was advantageous to me. You see, whenever he did that, his form was slightly unstable, making it easy for an opponent to unbalance him if they struck just right.

Taking a ragged breath, I allowed a smirk to turn the corner of my lips and light up my grey eyes with a wicked gleam.

 _Right foot, left foot, lean forward, shift, right, left, lean, shift— **Now!**_

I jolted forward with such suddenness that my opponent barely had time to defend himself. Putting up his arms to shield his face, he must have thought I was going for a knockout again. But at the last second, I fell back and spun, sweeping his feet out from under him before leaping up and landing a good kick right into the shin of his left leg.

He crumpled.

But I didn't give him any time to recover, I pull my full body weight into landing a jab to his stomach. And then with one final kick to his temple, the man was out cold, and I was standing victorious over him.

Raising my slightly bruised and bloody fist in the air, I watched as the crowd went wild allowing their cheers to wash over me like a wave on the sand; the cacophony of their numerous voices seemed to reach deafening levels.

In the background I could hear the MC shouting, "She did it! The Dark Phoenix has defeated the Fallen Angel!"

I didn't hear if anymore was said, tuning out all the noise as I climbed out of the small arena and collected my winnings before turning to leave. Instantly, the crowd parted before me so as to make way, still screaming, shouting and catcalling, yet unwilling to touch me.

Who would anyways?

* * *

—Next Day—

Pulling to a stop in the usual spot outside my little mechanic's shop, I stepped from the black car and vainly looked about the area in the hopes of possibly spotting a familiar red-and-blue form. Though I will deny it if asked, I actually felt a stab of sadness when I realized that my kind-sparked guardian was not waiting for me like last time. After I had texted him again saying that I was coming home, I had actually been looking forward to seeing him first thing again when I got back. So it was a slight disappointment to not be greeted with the sight of Optimus's large form waiting outside my shop for me.

I physically shook my head at the thought. _Get ahold of yourself girl._

Tiredly, I massaged my forehead, feeling as though all my thoughts and emotions were battling to get out of my skull. At least I hadn't gotten a headache. Yet.

I was about to open the door when my foot bumped into something and I heard a faint shuffling, scuffling sound. Blinking, I looked down to find a yellow package near my feet that was about the size of a movie case. Simply out of paranoia, I glanced about the quiet area before picking up the package. It was surprisingly light and sort of thin, like whatever was in it was quite small. On the front, my name and address was stamped out in black ink with a typewriter sort of font. But in the top, left corner, June's (New York June not Jack's mother June) name and address was stamped up there.

What could June be sending me all the way from New York? My brows furrowed in confusion even more. _And how did she get my direct address for that matter?_

Walking into the shop and flicking on the lights, I turned it over to find a note scrawled across it in familiar handwriting.

 _ **Just stuck gold. Our clockwork bee's and keeper have been quite busy.**_ —Ivan Bliminse

 _Moz_ , I thought with some relief, now opening the yellow envelope and tipping it sideways so that a black and silver USB drive tumbled into the palm of my hand. Smirking, I then angled my way towards my little makeshift desk where I had a laptop and a couple extra screens already set up.

Confused? Yeah, I don't blame you. Mozzie's paranoia and ever-changing aliases are enough to confuse even the most intelligent of scholars. The name Ivan Bliminse (or 'Invisible Man' if you unscrambled it) just happens to be a part of that insane list of alias' he's got.

Anyways, I wasn't about to turn down any info he has on 'our little clockwork bee's and keeper' or MECH and Silas if you don't know. Who knows? Maybe he really had just 'struck gold' as he stated in his message.

Making myself comfortable in a sloppily sown up desk chair—hey no one is good at everything—and logging onto the computer, I soon plugged the little device in and pulled up the contents of the drive Moz had sent me. With one click of the mouse pad, numerous documents soon filled up all three screens before me causing my eyes to bug a little in surprise.

' _Struck gold' my ass; I think we just won the lottery._

"Mozzie I could kiss you right now," I whispered aloud to no one in particular, diving into the first document.

'Federal Bureau of Investigation' it read across the top as if the little logo in the top, left hand corner wasn't enough. According to the info scrawled underneath, it was some kind of report made not too long ago in Washington DC by someone whose name was obscured by black sharpie but was definitely somewhere high up on the FBI food chain if the clearance level for the doc was anything to go by.

Simply put, this document was a basic, overall summary of MECH. And while mentioning several key items, I found it to be a little…lacking. There was nothing detailing what was to be done about it, how long the organization had been in play, what estimated guesses could be made about them…etc. They hadn't even mentioned there being the possibility of the government, FBI, and other similar organizations being infiltrated. The only useful tidbit had been the fact that said that they were sending in agents to infiltrate and gather more info, abstaining from even stating that they were going to take down the organization.

I snorted disdainfully, moving to the other documents.

* * *

UNITED STATES DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE

FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION

RENO, NEVADA AND HAWAI'I, HAWAII

May 06, 2007

MECHANICALLY ENHANCED COMBAT HIERARCHY

RENO, NEVADA AND HAWAI'I, HAWAII

EXTREMIST MATTERS

This investigation is based on information that the Mechanically Enhanced Combat Hierarchy's activities may be in violation of Title 18, U.S. Code, Section 2823 (Rebellion or Insurrection) and Section 2384 (Seditious Conspiracy). A confidential source who has furnished reliable information in the past has informed XxXxXxX that the organization uses force and violence to advocate violent attacks and engage in rebellion, insurrection and destruction throughout Reno and the United States of America.

On February 17, 2007, CE H-1 advised that the organization known as MECH were preparing to move on XxXxXxXxXxXxXx in XxXxXxXxXxXxX and were in contact with a branch located on the island of Hawai'i, Hawaii. CE H-1 reported that the head of MECH, known as Silas, was handling communications himself. Other members were aware that an Event, as they referred to it, was going to happen in Hawaii. No one was informed when due to-recently being discovered as an informant for the XxXxXxXxXxX.

On April 29, 2007, an attack was carried out on the XxXxXxXxXxX in XxXxXxXx. Casualties were reported to be around 53 employees, with 13 being unaccounted for after the incident, including XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx and XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx, the heads of XxXxXxXxXxX. XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx was stolen, according to both CE H-1 and officials from the facility.

(05-15-2007)

 **FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION**

 **Precedence:**

PRIORITY

 **DATE:** 04/30/2007

 **To:** Director

 **Attn:** XxXxXxXxXxX b7D

 **From:** Reno Command Post Contact: XxXxXxXxXx b5

 **Approved By:** XxXxXxXxXxX b7A XxXxXxXxXxX

 **Drafted By:** XxXxXxXxXxX

 **Case ID #:** 485C-HI-760210-NV (Pending)

 **Title:** XxXxXxXxXxOO: HI

 **Synopsis:** Summary EC with significant time line activity reported in captioned manner.

 **Enclosure(s):** Copies of Rapid Start Time Line entries for the period of April 29, 2007 through 12:50 a.m. on April 30, 2007.

 **Details:**

 **April 29, 2007**

8:15 PM At approximately 8:15 p.m., XxXxXxXxXxXxX received a security alert signal from the XxXxXxXxXxX in XxXxXxXxXx, HI. SA XxXxXxXxXx was advised by XxXxXxXxXx that the facility was currently under assault by unknown individuals with assault weapons and ballistic armor. At 8:30 p.m., SA XxXxXxXxXxXx advised he was putting XxXxXxXxXx on the phone and that a patch to ADD XxXxXxXxXxXx was ready. XxXxXxXxXxXx was then patched into a conference line with XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx, XxXxXxXxXxXx of the USN, and XxXxXxXxXxXx of the USAF where XxXxXxXxXx then described the attackers as carrying military grade assault rifles, ballistic vests, pants, and helmets, and what appeared to be plastic explosives and detonators on three of them. Some were reported to have advanced weaponry that was supposedly still in testing at other XxXxXxXxXx facilities. XxXxXxXx advised that there were approximately 20 attackers and that they were being engaged by facility security personnel. XxXxXxXx asked XxXxXxXx about the location and number of personnel currently at the facility. XxXxXxXxXxX advised that there were 12 security personnel currently engaging with the attackers near the entrance to the facility and 30 more scattered between three main areas of the facility have: the lobby, the basement, and just outside XxXxXxXxXxXx. All 112 researchers on the facility had been evacuated into XxXxXxXxXx which were then sealed with reinforced blast doors. At 8:43 p.m., the call with XxXxXxXxXx abruptly ended after gunshots were reported to be heard over the phone.

XxXxXxXxXxXx advised XxXxXxXxXx that this should be kept off general channels and communications would be limited to active members of the situation.

8:57 PM ADD contacted CAPT XxXxXxXx and XxXxXxXxXx advised him on the situation before requesting Special Forces intervention due to the type of threat and the facility that was being assaulted. At 9:01 p.m., the request was granted.

9:07 PM Special Forces team XxXxXxXxXx were deployed to the facility and were briefed on the situation while enroute.

9:09 PM XxXxXxXxXx was patched into the facility's radios and SrA XxXxXxXxXxX began to actively monitor the situation, reporting directly to XxXxXxXxXx. At approximately 9:17 p.m., it was advised that a second set of attackers had utilized an unknown explosive device to breach the south wall, opposite to the entrance. Approximately 15 extra attackers were reported as entering from there before radios went silent in that sector.

9:23 PM Radios went silent from those at the entrance. The attackers were reported to be moving into the Basement.

9:26 PM The attackers began engagement with security forces in the basement. Radio chatter advised that only 18 had entered the basement, leaving the other 17 unaccounted for.

9:40 PM Radio chatter advised that the remaining 6 personnel were retreating back to the entrance to the XxXxXxXxXxXxXx to group up with the last of the facility's forces. Doors were sealed behind the retreating forces.

9:47 PM The attackers breached the doors to the location of the remaining security forces.

9:58 PM Special Forces touched down outside the XxXxXxXxXxX facility and were quickly engaged in a firefight at the entrance upon arriving. They advised that there were only 16 at the entrance.

10:36 PM Radios from the facility security forces go completely silent.

11:15 PM XxXxXxXxXxXx came onto the radio channels and advised SrA XxXxXxXxXxX on the events that had happened. At approximately 10:55 p.m., the attackers breached the XxXxXxXxXxXxX and proceeded to take the researchers hostage. The researchers were asked where xXxXxXxXxXx was located and, if they did not cooperate, were killed before the next was asked. This went on for approximately 10 minutes until a researcher by the name of XxXxXxXxXxXxXx gave up the location and took them to it. The attackers left the testing chamber upon securing XxXxXxXxXx. It took XxXxXxXx approximately 2 minutes to locate a radio and get in contact.

11:19 PM Special Forces advised that 11 new attackers joined the remaining 12 at the entrance.

11:48 PM Special Forces advised that the attackers were retreating deeper into facility and were going to pursue them.

12:18 PM Special Forces advised hearing the rotors of a helicopter approaching their position. At 12:22 p.m., it was reported that multiple Black Hawk helicopters had touched down behind the facility and that 10 of the 16 attackers boarded them before they left at 12:26 p.m.

12:34 PM Special Forces advised that all hostiles left on site had been eliminated and that they were going to sweep the facility for any others. Attackers identified as part of the Extremist Group MECH.

12:43 PM Special Forces arrived at XxXxXxXxXx.

12:50 PM Special Forces advised that there were no hostiles left on site and that it was secure.

* * *

I looked up.

Spending over two and a half hours poring over all of this information, I had come to two conclusions: one, I was likely going to go to jail if some alphabet soup company suits knew I had this stuff, and two, the government was full of idiots.

From what Moz had gathered, MECH's activities dated back to at least five years ago to 2005. That was about a year after one Colonel Leland Bishop (aka Silas) was discharged from the military and then subsequently went off the radar for several months later. Mozzie had made a little note somewhere suggesting that during that unknown period of time, the good Colonel had been later joined by other members of the US military, some of whom had been still enlisted at the time, and been pooling resources together. By the time the year 2005 had rolled around, a small renegade group had emerged from the works, led by none other than Silas.

There were tons of info on MECH; from newspaper articles (highlighted in a friendly blue color by Moz for my benefit) to classified government documents and reports, to even witness sightings and pictures and whatnot of them. Moz even made some more personal notes here and there too, throwing in some possible suspects who were connected to MECH in some way, whether it be minion, supplier, or target.

Altogether, there was enough info here to fill a cork board the size of a classroom whiteboard.

But you know what the really pathetically saddening part was? It seemed like only just recently the US (and possibly a few select other countries) were now just starting to combat the MECH threat, sending in spies and intelligence gatherers. Seriously people?! Why the hell has no one done anything about this sooner?

 _Fucking pencil pushers and pompous bureaucrats_ , I couldn't help but think with an irate mental growl.

Stretching out languidly, I sighed and glanced at the clock which read that it was five-something in the afternoon.

God, where had the time gone?

Saving one copy of the info to a secure location on my computer and another to a second USB, I turned off the computer and headed towards the upstairs kitchen for some dinner. I could think about this all later. Right now I needed to rest after an exhausting car ride and take time to process all that I had just read. I could plot my cold little heart out later.

* * *

—Next Day, Afterschool—

"You've got to be kidding me," I practically choked out in undisguised disgust. "Those bastards were trying to _dissect him_? Like one of those frogs we sometimes use in biology?" With every word spoken, every incredulous word out of my mouth became louder and louder. "And they were doing it _while he was conscious_?!" I blanched, voice reaching shrill levels by now that even Optimus was wincing slightly at, though I didn't notice.

Once again, it seemed that something crazy had happened on the Autobot base while I was not around. I mean, seriously, a Decepticon dragged off by a bunch of humans? And just so that they could try to dissect him to see how he worked? It was worse than a kid taking a magnifying glass and using it to burn ants; Breakdown may have been the enemy, but even he did not deserve that.

And I thought that my life wasn't the greatest.

Feeling queasy, I slapped a hand over my mouth while the other hand unconsciously picked and rubbed at my bandaged arm.

"That's just sick," I hissed in a low, hollow-sounding voice. "Beyond disgusting. I mean, who would—? _Why_ would any sane individual do such a thing?"

The image alone was enough to make me want to camp out in the bathroom for the next several days with the toilet as my only companion. It was almost worse than…

—Flashback—

In a dimly lit room, a latex covered hand holding a scalpel descended almost in slow motion towards unmarred flesh about to—.

—Flashback End—

Flinching, I shook my head, not even daring to think about it, while unconsciously rubbing the covered area of my arm where only a select few knew a good chunk of it was missing.

Inhaling the scent of leather, wax and something distinctly metallic, I continued my tirade. "And then Bulkhead, of all bots, decided to go rescue Breakdown while the rest of you tried avoid being blown to smithereens?" Groaning, I leaned forward and (softly) knocked my forehead against the dashboard.

"Gods of Olympus, Optimus," I said, voice slightly muffled. "The crazy stuff you guys into while I'm gone."

"It is not the worst thing to happen to us, Aria," Optimus rumbled around me as we entered the secret tunnel in the mesa.

"Tell that to Breakdown," I muttered when we finally came to a stop. Not even bothering to ask if I wanted out, Optimus transformed around me so that a couple seconds later, I landed in the palm of his giant but warm hand. So accustomed to him doing it, I didn't even feel queasy or even slightly dizzy anymore when he did that.

Completely uncaring as to where my guardian was going, I lay there limply like a ragdoll, eyes closed, and practically boneless limbs swaying slightly with each step my guardian took.

* * *

—Top of Base, Later—

"…new world order…newest. The victor...most innovative technology," I mumbled to myself, remembering the exact words Silas had used the first time we had 'met' so to speak.

After going about my usual routine on base, which consisted of hanging with my guardian for a bit, harassing/helping Ratchet, training, exploring base, and fixing random stuff I could find, I was left with pretty much nothing to do. So I had gone up to the spot on top of the base at the edge of the mesa that had been dubbed as my spot—and sat down, puzzling out all that I had learned about MECH and Silas.

It wasn't much but now with more intel at my disposal, I could at least figure some things out and possible divine their next move.

Still, something about what Silas had said was really starting to bug me.

After reading about him and experiencing what he and his followers could do first hand, I was inclined to believe that Silas didn't throw words about lightly. And with what had happened recently with Bulkhead and the Decepticon, Breakdown, in the Kamchatka Peninsula of Eastern Russia, I got the distinct impression that something was coming. It was like the calm before the storm; the ominous cracking of ice before it broke away from a glacier completely and fell into the sea.

 _Wait…technology_ —

Suddenly, a large servo seemed to appear out of thin air and scooped me up with a startled yelp.

"Holy—! Optimus!" I growled. "A little warning would have been appreciated!"

My false bravado didn't seem to have fooled him though, as he just surveyed my form with a concerned look in his optics. Damn, since when had he been able to read me so easily? "Aria, are you well?" he asked.

Immediately, I opened my mouth, ready to say "I'm perfectly fine", but the words never came out. Was I really fine? No. I had a lot on my plate after all. So instead of blatantly lying to his faceplates, I shut my trap again, considered my next words, opened my yapper and told him the truth. Or some of it, at least.

* * *

—Optimus' POV—

"No, I'm not alright," she told him bluntly, looking down at her lap. "I'm worried."

Quietly, he nodded to show he was listening, wanting her to continue.

She had this troubled look on her face that said she was thinking deeply about something but was having trouble putting it all into words. Eventually, she just blurted out, "It's about MECH."

If she didn't have his attention before, she certainly did now.

"They— It's just— Something's coming. I just know it," Aria said, eyes turning stormy.

"What makes you say that?" he asked her after a pause. He wasn't disagreeing with her assessment. In fact, he wholeheartedly agreed with it. But he wished to know what led her to this conclusion, what her thoughts were on the whole matter.

Aria exhaled, sounding frustrated with herself, if a little uneasy too. Despite the seriousness of the situation, the way her optic ridges furrowed together was almost adorable.

"It's just something Silas said, back when we first met him, that's been bugging me," she said slowly. "' _There's a war brewing, between the new world order and the newest. The victor will be the side armed with the most innovative technology'._ "

The girl sighed, looking out towards the horizon.

"And with these attacks…especially with what happened with Breakdown…I can't help but worry for you guys. If my knowledge of Silas and MECH is anything to go by, dissecting—" she shivered slightly at the use of the word, prompting him start stroking her spinal struts lightly in attempts to comfort her. "—cybertronian's is anything but their endgame. They're trying to figure out what makes you all tick, and it's only a matter of time before they do.

"And then…" she trailed off, seemingly lost in thought.

"'And then' what?" he prompted curiously.

Aria growled in irritation, throwing her hands up out of frustration. "That's just it. Once they figure out how to build you guys, I don't know what they are going to do."

Optimus got the impression that she was madder at herself than anything else, and that her ire stemmed from her worry.

He watched as her petite servo's kept clenching and unclenching at her sides, like she was trying to grab the answer out of the air, and it just kept slipping out of her finger like smoke. Thankfully though, it seemed like his continuous motions of running his large digits up and down along her spine helped a little. Slowly she, relaxed.

"Aria," he began slowly, looking down at the mysteriously enigmatic human in his servo. "There may come a day where MECH does find a way but for now we must live in the here and now. Let what is coming, come. We will be there to face it when it does."

"And what if we're not ready when it does?" she queried quietly, meeting his optics. Were those flecks of silver shining amongst the grey?

"Little one, do you really think we are so helpless as to be incapable of surviving the coming storm when it breaks?"

She flushed slightly, looking away. "No. It's just they took down a fully capable Decepticon warrior. I…" she trailed off, no doubt thinking of those she had lost, which he knew she had.

Deciding to change tactics, Optimus remembered a line he had read somewhere during his time here on Earth. "'She stood in the storm, and when the wind did not blow her away, she adjusted her sails.'"

"Elizabeth Edwards," the golden-haired girl finished, meeting his gaze once again for a scant second before looking away again with a small sigh. She seemed a little nervous but it could have just been his optics playing tricks on him. "Fine. I get what you are saying. I just worry."

They fell into mutual companionable silence after that. Neither of them felt the need to break it as it was not one of those uncomfortable types of silences.

And then he spotted it. Just as he was partway through examining the tiny form of his charge, he noticed something on his charge that unsettled him little more than he cared to admit. From any other angle, he probably wouldn't have noticed it, but now with the way she was splayed out, the odd discolored spot on his charge's jaw was clearly visible.

Was that a bruise?

"What is this?" he asked her, reaching out and carefully tilting her chin up with one of his digits so he could inspect the discolored skin more closely. While small in his optics, the mark was right on her jaw bone and a sickly green-yellow color. He could just barely make out the thin web of blue-black veins that stuck out against the unhealthy color of the spot.

The girl's grey eyes snapped open. "What's what?" she asked in what was a believably confused tone.

"The bruise on your jaw; where did that come from?"

"Oh _that_ ," she realized with a note of caution in her voice. He could almost see the gears turning in her head, trying to come up with a clever, veiled half-truth in response. Why? "It's nothing really," she waved off, shrugging. "I just got into a fight; that's all." The story would have been almost convincing—and he could tell that she was definitely telling the truth—had he not noticed the slight flicker of apprehension in her eyes. What could she be hiding?

In the end, he decided against calling her out on the vague answer, knowing it would do him no good; she would tell him in her own time.

"What was it about this time, if I may ask?" he decided to ask her instead. He wasn't really surprised about Aria getting into fights, having heard about it from the children (and even some of the Autobot's too), but that did not mean that he was any less adverse to the idea, even if he should have gotten accustomed to it since it happened on an almost weekly basis. Just the thought of several faceless human's ganging up on her made his spark pulse angrily in his chassis.

She shrugged vaguely. "My title I suppose."

Oh yes, he knew all about her supposed 'title'. Being a skilled fighter, Aria had been nonverbally been labelled as 'unbeatable' as no one had ever witnessed her lose. He knew she wasn't; and she had even verbally acknowledged that once. It was just the 'novelty of the improbable', he remembered, the words of his former friend returning to him. People tried to take her on because they wanted the glory and praise that came with beating the unbeatable, doing the undoable. Even if no one was truly unbeatable. Still, it was hard to _not_ think of someone that way, especially when they fought with the level of skill Aria seemed to exhibit. And thus, by declaring her as 'unbeatable', her peers had inadvertently alienated her in a way, placing her on a pedestal above the rest and conjuring unwanted dislike in her general direction.

Sure, she acted like she did not care if anyone liked or disliked her, but he knew how lonely she really was. He knew that from experience as leaders were often placed in the exact same position she was: on a pedestal that eventually alienated her from the rest of the common-folk.

Mentally shaking himself from memory lane, he focused back on his charge, only to meet those grey pools once again and be graced with a rare smile. Did he ever mention that that expression suited her? It really made those silver flecks in her eyes stand out, though he had never really noticed until now.

"Don't worry, Prime. I can take care of myself," she told him, somehow aware of the dark turn his thoughts had taken.

"I know," was all he could say. _Though I wish I could help_.

* * *

—Aria's POV, Later—

"Thanks for walking me home, Jack. You're a real gentleman," Arcee commented dryly, eliciting a snort from me as Jack pretended to guide her vehicle mode towards his garage. They did know that motorcycles are extremely heavy and 'guiding' Arcee like Jack was, was technically impossible, right?

"I don't want you revved up before bedtime," Jack retorted and I snorted again, louder this time as I walked behind the duo.

"Get a room you two," I muttered loud enough for both of them to hear.

The raven-haired teen rolled his eyes at me, adding, "Besides, mom is a light sleeper, and I don't think she'd understand about—"

"Understand what, Jack?" Jack's mother, June, demanded, disapproval and anger written plainly on her features as she glared at her son. "You breaking curfew for the third time this month?"

 _Busted._

"Mom—" Jack tried only to be cut off.

"Or why your boss called about you missing another shift at work? Or maybe the e-mail I received from your Art history teacher, who's concerned that you've been falling asleep in class," June went on, expression frosty.

 _Oh this is not gonna end well._

"Well, two words, mom: 'art' and 'history'," Jack said nervously, trying to save face.

I barely suppressed the urge to wince at my brothers' extremely poor placating skills. He really needed to know when to keep his mouth shut.

June just sighed, turning to face me with a pained smile. "Aria, I'm sorry. It's wonderful to see you and all, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to go home tonight. I need to have a few words with my son," she said, the last words coming out as a bit of a growl.

Knowing there was little else I could do, I nodded. "It's alright June. I understand. Maybe we can all have dinner some other night."

The older woman shot me a grateful look, smile still weak. "Maybe. Now you better get going before your parents start worrying."

I fought back a grimace, saying with a stiff and slightly strained smile, "I will."

Thankfully, June didn't seem to notice anything odd about my expression, probably busy thinking of all the ways she was going to lecture Jack into deafness or something.

Turning to start back down the driveway, I purposefully did not meet Jack's eyes or look at the blue motorcycle next to him.

"Tell them I said 'hello'."

Not turning, I just waved in acknowledgement, walking down the street and disappearing into the darkness. Last thing I heard was June talking to Jack about rumors of him street racing. Hopefully, Jack could manage to invent a good enough explanation on his own.

Enjoying the freedom of the open road on my motorcycle, I smiled a little despite the new array of bruises I had just received not too long ago.

Okay, so I had sorta lied to June when I told her that I was going to go home. I mean I had actually gone straight back to my shop after Jack's mother had more or less barred me from staying at her house for the night. I just had not stayed there for very long. Instead, I had hopped on my motorcycle and zipped off to the nearest city and participated in the nearest underground blood fight.

It wasn't the smartest move since I had school tomorrow and I had already participated in a fight last night, but I needed to vent. Which in my case, meant beating other people up.

While I had acted otherwise, June's mention of my parents had hit a sore spot. Just like it always did. I had eked out a majority of my existence street fighting and doing what I had to survive living on the streets. But my parents were always a sore spot for me because I had never really had actual people in my life that acted like that. It's part of what me a tad bit jealous of Jack and June.

Suddenly, there was a huge roar that seemed to shake me to my very core (and subsequently, out of my morbid thoughts). Looking around, I managed to skid to a stop just in time to see a huge fireball crash into the earth no less than a quarter of a mile away from my exact position.

 _ **Booommm!**_

 _What the hell was that? A meteor?_ I thought, eyes narrowed on the new, smoking crater amid the darkened landscape.

Making a quick split second decision, I revved the engine, pulling about with a screech, and gunning it towards the crater. _Thank god I decided put those off-roading tires on._

It did not take all that long to arrive at the meteor sight and, boy, did it look _a lot_ bigger up close. Wide in diameter as some of the more mildly priced houses in Hollywood, the crater had to be at least thirty feet deep. All around the smoking crash site, trees, shrubs, and grass had either been burned to a crisp or uprooted entirely.

Thank god that aside from the nearby road, there was no one around for miles. Otherwise I'd probably be seeing a seriously devastated farmer or something.

Barely stopping to consider the danger I was potentially getting myself into, I got off my red and blue motorbike, leapt over the mound of dirt blocking my way and started making my way down the inclined slope into the heart of the smoking crater. It sounded like there was something moving down there.

Cautiously, I creeped all the way down until I was standing only a couple feet away from the unidentified smoking object. Definitely somewhere in the twenty-foot range, the thing appeared to be rounded oddly enough and gleamed a little, like someone had put a huge, egg-shaped rock in an even bigger rock polishing machine to be smoothed and polished.

A seriously big, smooth meteor perhaps?

And then I heard it. The metallic clicks and whirrs that I only associated with one race of beings. Suddenly, I was seeing the large _thing_ in a whole new light. A meteor, my ass; it was a cybertronian ship! From the looks of it, it seemed to be an escape pod to be more precise.

Inside, I could hear clanging, clicks, whirrs, groans, moans, and a symphony of other assorted metallic sounds. It sounded like the occupant was trying to get out but was having trouble or something.

Hmmm…What to do? Help the unknown bot inside and risk getting squished by a potential Decepticon, or call the bots for help? Hmmm…decisions, decisions. So you know what I did? I went with the Miko-like option and drew out both my short staffs, smashing the ends together so that the two halves clicked together and formed one whole Bō staff, jammed it into the nearest surface on the pod that looked like it could be part of the hatch, and put my whole weight against it.

Thank God and Primus both that my guess was the right one since a second later after the mangled metal gave way, there was a faint _hissss_ followed by a cloud of white smoke (or steam) before the door to the ginormous pod opened.

More metallic sounds greeted my ears, louder this time. They sounded almost…angry?

Feeling confident in my abilities that I could at least dodge the first blast if the cybertronian inside proved to be hostile, I stepped out into view and waited for the alien to emerge. Did that last sentence sound weird to anyone else?

With a surprising amount of patience—it's probably because I hang out with Optimus so much—I watched as the bot shuffled into view, loud, thundering footsteps threatening to send my heart into a frantic frenzy. Even though he was partially obscured by the hazy cloud billowing out from within the pod, I determined two things: one, it was a mech, and two, he was pointing a friggin' huge ass cannon at me! Huge and built almost like Bulkhead—yet somehow more 'fit' if you can call it that—the black mech easily towered over my small frame just like every other cybertronian out there.

Is this what I get for complaining about being too tall for most guys who wanted to date me? Thanks a lot universe.

Blue optics narrowed at me, I visibly gulped at the sight of the huge cannon humming to life to a sort of gleefully savage tune that probably went along the lines of 'you are going to be pulverized into oblivion, fleshy.'

"Um, Hi?" I offered, trying to not sound like some puppy's squeaky toy when someone sat on it as I raised my hand slowly into the air in an 'I surrender' gesture. Hey, don't laugh! You try having a bloody huge cannon shoved in your face, about to turn you into a grease stain, and see how brave you are!

The heavily armored mech growled; optics flickering a bit as he made clicking and whirring sounds at me.

"Uh-sorry, I don't speak cybertronian. Is it too much to hope that you speak a language I know?" I said, trying to appear calm and collected on the outside. On the inside however, my inner voice was screaming, "Oh my God! I'm gonna die!"

The mech tilted his head a bit, like he was confused by my language, but still growling all the while like the intimidating, cannon-wielding mech that he was.

And then I spotted his insignia.

"You're an Autobot," I whispered, feeling a little more hopeful now—though still wary—as we both eyed each other. A trigger happy Autobot. Lovely.

Again, the mech growled something else out in his metallic language.

Frustrated, I hissed lowly, not enough to be threatening to the bot but enough to show that I was irritated. What the H-E-double-toothpick was I gonna do now? Try writing in cybertronian in the dirt to see if he would respond? Yeah right. And I doubted that he would let me make a call to the Bots. Yeah he— Hey wait a minute. Back up a second.

And like that, a dusty lightbulb flickered to life somewhere in my mind.

Slowly, so as not to spook him, I took the end of my staff and carefully scribbled something in the dirt between us.

 _Optimus Prime_

It wasn't much but the crudely written cybertronian made the big guy a pause.

And yes, I had memorized how to write my guardian's name in cybertronian. Not because I was obsessed or anything, of course. I just kinda…memorized it…accidentally. Yeah that's it.

Cautiously, the black mech lowered his cannon a little; his optics flickered in an ominous way some more. It wasn't until the smoke cleared some more and I glanced down, that I realized that he was hurt. Numerous dents and scrapes littered his frame, and fresh cuts leaked blue energon sluggishly.

"What the— How are you still standing?!" I cried, immediately trying to get a closer look despite the obvious threat of death shoved blatantly in my face. I guess that I should just count myself lucky that I didn't meet my end by way of canon-fire. Instead, the dark mech backed up, swaying unsteadily on his pedes a bit, and whirring some kind of death threat at me no doubt. It looked as if he were silently resolving in his processor to keep a closer optic on me because I could clearly see the mistrustful look he was giving me.

" _Pourquoi moi?_ " I quietly bemoaned to myself. (Why me?)

Again the bot grumbled, but I noticed this time his voice seemed to not be a strong as before. It wasn't feeble—as I would never use that word to describe the bot before me—but it definitely did not sound right on the tough mech. He stumbled some more, swaying dangerously on his feet and supporting himself against the side of the pod.

Fearful I was about to be made into a human-pancake, I backed up, and it was a smart thing I did too because this time, when his optics started dimming and brightening in a way that reminded me painfully of Optimus during 'the incident', he did not immediately go back to uttering gibberish at me. In fact, he barely managed to click out what I suspected was a curse word before he keeled over backward and promptly passed out directly thereafter.

Great. He passed out. Now what was I going to do?

* * *

—Later—

Several hours later, I was sitting in the spare warehouse next to my shop, staring at the immobile form of the new Autobot. And don't ask me how I managed to move him; all I will say is that it involved a couple favors, some phone calls, and a multitude of colorful explicatives issuing out of my mouth. I had done what I could for the mech, patching up injuries like I had seen Ratchet do a dozen times and banging out whatever dents I could find. Hell! I even washed him off and repainted the areas that seriously needed TLC; I wasn't sure if I wanted to even see what had happened to his back since I couldn't reach it 'til he got up. It looked as if the poor guy had just lost a fight with a seriously angry chainsaw-lawnmower hybrid or something. That or he had been tortured and held captive for a while, which I suspected was the case.

Anyways, I bet you all are wondering why I didn't call the bots and get Ratchet to help right? Truth be told, I wanted to do that too, but then I remembered what happened with Wheeljack and that imposter-bot, Makeshift. I did not want to go through that again or get the Autobots' hopes up only for them to come crashing down in a fiery explosion because this bot turned out to be an imposter too. Even on the off chance that he wasn't a lying, cheating imposter though, I wasn't going to take that risk and put everyone's lives in danger. No, for now it was best to keep this project quiet and handle it myself.

Hopefully, Optimus wouldn't murder me for this if he ever found out.

* * *

—Later—

Slaving away at various projects on my laptop, the clock on the bottom of screen declared that it was three minutes after two o'clock in the morning. I didn't particularly feel the toll no sleep took on me nor did I care, but woe unto those who had to deal with me at school today and got on my bad side. I just hoped the bot would wake up soon so I could at least go to school without having to worry about him blowing up my spare warehouse.

Anyways, I was curled up in a rather plush desk chair, sitting Indian style with my laptop cradled perfectly in my lap as I worked. Nearby, there was an old fashioned trunk that stood on one of its sides, serving as a small table-top of sorts and laden with only a couple things: a pen, a blank pad of paper, an old-fashioned lantern, my phone, and a glass of what was probably now lukewarm water.

Aside from the light coming off the screen of my laptop and the dancing flame of the nearby lantern, the slightly dusty warehouse was pretty dark, not to mention quiet. I rarely used the place unless I was testing out one of the new prototype designs for my batons. Aside from that though, nothing really lived here unless you included the occasional mouse scuttling about or rare scorpion that managed to get in.

So altogether, I was pretty much alone for the time being even if I had large, intimidating, and trigger happy but still very much unconscious—to keep me company.

Speaking of which, said mech lay spread-eagled out on the cement floor, still unconscious, and only several good yards of space separating us. He barely moved, but I knew that he was still very much alive. I just hoped that the combined efforts of my meager cybertronian medical knowledge and mechanical skills were enough to save him.

Pressing the _Enter_ button on my keyboard, I was about to type up a new line when I suddenly froze, feeling a pair of eyes watching me.

Ever so slowly, I looked up to meet the gaze of a pair of electric blue optics.

As soon as we locked gazes I resisted the urge to greet him with a sarcastic "Morning sleeping beauty" or some other similar comment. Somehow, I doubted that he would appreciate my dry, and slightly morbid, sense of humor. So I quashed the urge down and sat still, trying to keep a relaxed posture under his scrutinous gaze.

Of course, that didn't stop me from attempting to wave at him.

And you know what he did in response? He pointed that freaking cannon at me.

I frowned, irritation evident on my features. "Seriously, mech? I patch you up and this is how you thank me?"

He cocked his head to the side like he did last time when he heard me speak. It was like he was trying to figure out my language.

I rolled my eyes, muttering a quiet, "This language barrier is going to be a _douleur dans le cul_." (Pain in the ass).

Disregarding the cannon pointed at me as best as I could, I pushed a couple keys, shifted the mouse across the screen and saved what I could on my laptop. Glancing up, I saw that the mech was watching me, or more accurately, looking at my laptop. Was he interested in it?

Then I watched as his optics dimmed slightly. What was he—? Not five seconds later, I got my answer when my laptop started going crazy, opening up multiple tabs on the internet at the same time and sifting through all information faster than a human could blink, almost seeming to suck up the info like a vacuum cleaner except ten times faster. Then just as suddenly, all the tabs were closed and I was left gawking slightly at the computer in my lap.

"The hell…?"

"Where the frag am I fleshy?" a deep British voice growled at me from nearby.

My head snapped towards the mech's direction so fast I got whiplash.

"I-I beg your pardon?" I stuttered scrambling to regain control of my tongue as it had seemed to have abandoned me out of shock.

The mech glared at me. "What planet am I fleshy? Where am I? How did I get here?" Despite the slight but odd accent, his voice still held that metallic quality in it that all cybertronian voices seemed to possess.

Okay so it hadn't been my imagination. He was the one who had spoken.

"Earth. You are on planet Earth," I managed to get out after clearing my throat and licking my dry lips. "And my name is, Aria, for your information, stupid. Thanks for asking," I said, finally going back to my old prickly ways. Even in the face of danger and the potentiality to be turned into a red-colored smear on the floor, I still managed to be sarcastic. Go me.

He growled, his glare evolving into a fiercer look before my eyes. But I even managed to ignore it.

"Anyways, you're in the warehouse next to my mechanic's shop. I'm not sure how much you remember, but you crashed here in what looked like an escape pod last night about five and a half human hours ago. I was lucky enough to find you and managed to find a way to haul your unconscious frame here where I did my best to patch you up."

I jerked my head toward a stack of energon cubes, which were stacked a little off to his left.

"You're lucky you even survived entering Earth's atmosphere without getting blown to smithereens first, let alone that crash."

He grunted, and I'm not sure if that meant he agreed with me, or he didn't give a damn.

"So you wanna tell me what you're doing here Autobot?"

Immediately, his attention snapped towards me. "What do you know squishy?"

I let a long-suffering sigh escape my lungs. "Obviously we got off on the wrong foot then. Let's start over. Hi, my name is Aria. What's yours?" I tired, sticking out my hand for him to shake before belatedly realizing how stupid the action was.

"I ain't telling you nothing, Decepticon spy," he growled. Geez, someone was cranky.

"Fine, be like that," I huffed before saying sarcastically, "I mean it wasn't like I, a complete stranger, was the one who just oh-so-kindly decided to help you out of the goodness of my heart, moving you so that my government or some other unsavory group didn't find you and decide to dissect and experiment on you, or the Decepticon's didn't find you and shove you into a torture chamber to try to extract info from that thick help of yours."

Okay so maybe staying up so late without any sleep wasn't that great of an idea, since zero sleep tends to make me more prone to snap and fire sarcastic remarks at anyone who so much as looked at me funny.

"Nice try, fleshy," he grunted. "Did the Decepticon's put you up to this? They think sending in a little organic to soften me up is gonna work? Nice try Con-scum! I'm not falling for your tricks!" he roared. "You'll ha—"

 _CLANG!_

A fresh dent in his helm, the mech, who had been yelling and glaring at the walls of the warehouse as if one of them were a cleverly disguised one-way glass window—turned back to me, looking genuinely surprised that I had had the audacity to nail him in the forehelm with a wrench.

"Shut up you idiot," I hissed at him dangerously, eyes narrowed. "There may not be a lot of people around here but that doesn't mean that someone won't call the cops to come check out this place thanks to your obnoxious caterwauling."

I rubbed my forehead tiredly. God, I was really starting to regret bringing this ungrateful ass home with me. Wait, no, that sounded wrong.

Thankfully, the mech did not retort; he even had put those friggin' cannons away, too, at some point. Blissful silence reigned, and I used the brief reprieve to calm my somewhat frazzled emotions.

"Optimus," the nameless mech suddenly said out of the blue.

I blinked. "What?"

"Before…after I crashed…I remember faintly…you wrote out a name in cybertronian on the ground," he said slowly.

I looked at him, nodding slowly. "Optimus Prime, yeah. What of it?"

"Why?"

I paused. Honestly, I really don't know why, except I guess thought it was a better idea than waiting for the bot to incinerate me with his cannons.

Considering my next words carefully, I eventually said, "It seemed like the right thing to do."

"I don't believe you."

And with that statement, so began the tenuous relationship between myself and the bot, which consisted of mutual distrust, dislike, and neither of us really giving a damn.

* * *

Okay so, yeah. That really just happened. I won't say much but that the next chapter should be better. Anyone have an idea who the bot is?

Anyways for anyone who didn't catch it Mechanically Enhanced Combat Hierarchy is MECH. A friend and I came up with the words for the acronym so I hope no one dislikes it. Its really hard to find adequate words for the letter 'H'.

Please have a lovely day and Review!


	20. Devil's Deals and Confused Rage

Okay, all I'm going to say is that I am sorry and life likes kicking my butt. Plus, I had some trouble with this chapter too but I hope the physical pain I am feeling is worth it.

Thank you however to **Potato** , **Optimus is Bae 17** , **srjsunsat** , **Great i dea** , **Guest (1)** , **X Valkyrie Prime X** , **malkah5967** , **Lovingh3art** , **DaLadyofSouls** , **Cinematronix** , and **gwencarson126**. Your reviews are very much appreciated along with those good few souls who also favorited and followed this story. I appreciate all your patience.

 **Disclaimer:** I own none of the recognizable sources here and probably never will. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 20: Devil's Deals and Confused Rage**

I happen to like June. She is pretty awesome and usually quite nice, so I like her…just not right now.

"Hi honey," she greeted her son.

"Hey," Jack replied awkwardly.

"Hey, I uh finished my shift early at the hospital, so I thought I'd swing by," June said making me roll my eyes behind her back. The dark-haired woman was like a complete female version of Jack (awkward moments and all) but also a freaking nightmarish helicopter mom.

Okay let me explain. It had been five days since an incident involving Jack and his mother, the spider con Arachnid, and MECH. The attack had failed but Jack's mother had seen too much so June had been brought in on the Autobot's secret. Unfortunately now though, ever since she had been brought in on the secret, she had taken to coming to base to "checkup" on Jack almost every other day. And let me tell you how much her helicopter mom act was really starting to grate on my nerves. I swear that every other second she was on base she was mollycoddling Jack, myself, or one of the kids.

I do not need that.

The woman turned and greeted the remaining bots present. "Good to see you again, Doctor," June greeted the cranky med-bot before turning to the lone femme. "Arcee." It didn't escape my notice how the warmth in her voice was a little forced.

And then she noticed me, sitting on the floor with a bunch of tools trying to fix one of Ratchet's mangled devices (courtesy of Bulkhead). "Hello Aria dear. How are things with you and your family?"

My grip tightened around my wrench.

 _June, I like you, but you seriously need to stop saying the wrong things, even if you don't know that you are saying them._

In response to her question, I made an indecipherable grunting noise that she seemed to interpret as a "fine."

It was bad enough that my dangerous temper reared its head more often since a certain grumpy house guest had taken up residence in my spare warehouse. Now I had to deal with _this_ when I fled to base.

It was already bad enough that June was going and sharing stories of the times when Jack and I were kids.

—Flashback—

It was a just couple days after June had been first introduced to the entirety of Team Prime and the woman seemed to have warmed up to the Autobot's presence quite well, despite the first initial shock. Unfortunately for Jack, mother dearest decided the best way to connect with the bot's was to share stories of Jack's younger years, much to the teen's mortification and the amusement of Arcee. Sadly for me though, I was not spared from the same treatment either—having known Jack for some time now—and was forced to listen to the woman recount some of the tales from when I was littler as well. It was not so much infuriating as extremely annoying to listen to June coo over how adorable I had been when I was younger, "trying to act all tough" as she put it.

If that wasn't enough, I swear that my guardian was enjoying listening to these tales because he kept shooting these almost amused glances in my direction, apparently finding the warning glares I shot June entertaining. Honestly, I know that my withholding of personal information was not the easiest thing for him but that did not mean he had to go to other sources to get information about me.

Thank god, I have never told June anything about what I really did.

Sadly, the woman was either very good at ignoring the dirty looks I was sending her, or completely oblivious.

"…and she had the cutest little accent ever," June cooed, shooting a smile in my direction that I found extremely demeaning. Cute was not the word I would use to describe me at all, no matter how old I am.

In any case, my guardian seemed to perk up at this little piece of info.

"Accent?" he prodded curiously.

As much as I wanted to tell June to shut the frag up, I refrained from doing so. Instead opting for a much less severe (in my opinion) way of handling things.

"'She' is in the room, and 'she' can hear you. 'She' also doesn't appreciate you talking about her like 'she's' not in the room or can't hear you," I called snippily, snapping shut the small sketchbook in my hands with a little more than necessary. Rude, I know but it was the lesser of two evils.

Foolishly, June seemed to brush my tone off as a teenage embarrassment or something, completely glossing over the warning in my tone.

"Come on, Aria. No need to be shy," she cajoled. "What was it? Brooklyn? New Jersey?—"

"Cayjun French," I replied in a growling tone, slipping into my old speech patterns where D's sounded a bit like J's, TH's were either silent or replaced with D's or T's, and the last syllables of words were emphasized more than the first. Hopefully if I indulged her, it would get the incessant woman off my case. "An' I jon't 'preciate ya bringing dat up, June. I got ridduh dis accent for ree-son."

"But you sound so cute," she tried, causing the glare on my face to darken even more. "There's no need to be shy about it."

This time when I spoke, the use of the accent was less intentional and more accidental, the natural result of my heightened emotional state. I all but just barely managed to restrain myself from using some rather colorful language in front of the kids. "Youse are sorlay mistakon if ya tink dat's de issue den." Determinedly, I swallowed, focusing on my next words carefully as I said in proper English, "Please just drop it."

Face slightly heated in my still simmering anger, I never once looked up, completely missing the look Optimus shot me.

—Flashback End—

It was safe—or unsafe for my victims—to say that I was close to punching someone and my temper was closer to the surface than it had been in a long time. We all were just lucky I hadn't lost control. Yet.

"So, where's Optimus?" she asked innocently.

Underneath black glovelette's, my knuckles turned white with the force of my grip. Did I mention how much I hate when she tried to cozy up to or flirt with my guardian.

"On a scouting mission with Bumblebee. Sorry to disappoint."

June did indeed look disappointed. "And I wore heels and everything."

The hand holding the wrench started to shake.

Growling quietly, I put the tool away, got to my feet, and started to walk away, trying to not stomp while doing so. All I succeeded in doing though was keeping my footsteps light but my movements somewhat stiff.

Why was I angry? Well, I honestly have no idea, truth be told. And for some reason that just made me even angrier.

Thankfully no one noticed as I stormed past a recently arrived Miko, Raf, and Bulkhead, only shooting Ratchet a fleeting glance of goodbye before putting away my tools, donning my helmet, and mounting my bike. Then without a backward glance, I revved the engine of my motorbike and took off.

* * *

—Later—

Ever since June had invaded base, I had been spending more and more time cooped up in my workshop, bot-sitting a grumpy mech who trusted me about as far as he could throw Megatron, which is to say: not very far at all. He seemed to be stubbornly under the impression that I was a Decepticon spy and was just pretending to be nice so I could try and kill him when his guard was down or something.

Pfft. _As if!_

Honestly, what kind of twisted logic was that? If I wanted to kill him, I would have just left him to die when I had first found him, not brought him home and try to fix his ungrateful ass up. Try being the key word there.

"God frag it all to hell! Sit slagging still you jackaft before I weld you to the floor!" I roared at the mech.

Did I mention I had become more fluent in using Cybertronian curses?

The black mech growled, optics narrowed on me. "I don't need your help, slagging squishy!"

"Oh quit being a big baby, _mauviette_ ," I snarled back waving the welder threateningly at him. (wimp)

"Decepticon spy," he accused.

Angrily, I threw my welding mask to the ground. "I've told you before you _imbécile inutile_ : I am not a Con spy! Get that through your _épais_ head already!" (Useless imbecile) (Thick)

Remind me again why I decided to house this idiot? …Oh yeah, he may potentially be a Decepticon in disguise.

"What did you call me?!"

I picked up the nearest wrench and threw it at him. "First off, my name is Aria. Say it with me: Are-ee-uh—"

"I don't give a frag—"

So yeah, that was what I was dealing with. Still, at least two good things came out of it: 1) I got to pitch a physical fit at him, and 2) he somewhat proved to be an Autobot by not squishing me flatter than a flapjack. Of course, that did not mean I was going to be trusting him anytime soon though. I still currently trusted him about as far as I could throw him. (Now that would be a sight to see).

I threw my hands up in the air exasperatedly, switching off the welder and spitting innumerable curses in Cajun French and Paris French at the bot. Seeing as reasoning with him was pretty much rendered null, I gave up on trying to see to his other wounds and went back to the area I had set up before he had awoken and started being a pain in the ass. (My ass to be precise).

Ever since I had starting hosting Ironhide—yes, I had finally learned his name after considerable amounts of swearing and pestering—I had seriously tried to be an accommodating host while he recovered from his crash, trying to fix him up and sneaking cubes of Energon from base to give to this guy, but we had made little to no progress in the friendship department. Of course, it probably didn't help that he was still in pain no doubt —though he vehemently denied it—and was probably going stir-crazy, stuck looking at the same four walls with no vehicle mode to get him around.

Expression dark and still grumbling, I sat my butt down in the chair and pulled my laptop onto my lap.

If the bot said anything else, I either didn't hear or ignored him as I booted the device up and plugged in the password with practiced ease.

Clicking and typing away, I was about to dive back into my MECH cyber-pursuit when I was drawn into one of the websites I typically used to communicate with some of my more skittish contacts.

A new chat bubble with a fresh message had popped up.

 _We meet once again Miss Darknight._ —?

Immediately, I was on alert. Pausing, I hesitated slightly before beginning to type back.

 _You seem to have the advantage; you know my name but I don't know yours._ —AshAngel13

There was a brief hiatus before I received a reply back.

 _Oh, but my dear, you do, though we have never met face to face before._ —?

I froze. It couldn't be…could it? After much internal debate, I decided to take a chance and play along.

"Squishy. What is it?"

So focused on the screen before my eyes, I nearly jumped out of my seat upon hearing the voice, only to look up to see the dark-colored mech watching me. He looked almost a little concerned, apparently taking notice of how tense I was.

Simultaneously typing out a reply, I answered him. "There's this organization called Mechanically Enhanced Combat Hierarchy, or MECH. They're an extremist group that borderlines on being a terrorist group. Anyways, they seem to be under the impression that some kind of technology war is brewing between 'the new world order and the newest', or something like that. And right now, someone, who I think is their leader Silas, has just contacted me, and I do not think it is for a social visit," I finished with a slight scowl at my computer. Possible Decepticon or no, I needed to let at least someone know what I was up to in case…well, in case someone decided to killed me.

The bot did not respond; I pressed send.

 _Hmmm. Out here in the vastness of cyberspace, you could be anyone. You could be one of my many enemies out there for all I know._ —AshAngel13

 _Very true. How about we play a bit of a game then, my dear. I give you a hint and you try to figure it out?_ —?

 _Sounds fair._ —AshAngel13

 _Our first encounter was in the Sierra mountains and my crew and I were lucky enough to meet your rather large friends during the incident._ —?

 _I see. I'm not sure whether or not I should say it's a pleasure to speak to you again Silas, since I quite frankly don't know what to think. Tell me though, little tinman, is Silas your real name, or just another alias?_ —AshAngel13

I grinned to myself in pride, pleased with how creatively I had alluded to his previous status as a soldier. In hindsight, I should have expected that Silas would have another card up his sleeve.

 _Only if you kindly enlighten me as to whether Phoenix Darknight is really yours or an alias as well, your highness._ —Silas

I stiffened. So he knew. Or had an idea of who I was at the very least. This game of chess had definitely gotten a whole lot more dangerous.

 _It seems, then, that we have come to an impasse since I doubt that either of us are willing to admit to anything just yet._ —AshAngel13

 _So it does._ —Silas

I paused, trying to figure out how I was going to word my next message. I knew use of extreme caution would be well advised at this point though some may view it as unnecessary.

 _So tell me, Silas, to what do I owe the pleasure of this conversation? I doubt that it has anything to do with my charming demeanor._ —AshAngel13

 _Can I not just talk to you because I want to?_ —Silas

 _Nothing is ever free in life. Everyone always wants something. It's a smart lesson anyone learns if they have the proper teacher. Now what do you want?_ —AshAngel13

Okay so maybe that last sentence came out a little impolite sounding, but I couldn't think of a more acceptable way to phrase the question.

 _Jumping right to the meat of the matter I see. I expected nothing less. Very well._ —Silas

I waited patiently for him to respond.

 _I have a proposition for you. According to my sources, I understand that you are looking for some information regarding a certain someone. So I propose a deal: I will do all in my power to help you find all that you need in exchange for your services._ —Silas

Uh-oh. Only a select few were partial to this sensitive information. Either something had happened, someone blabbed or his so called sources were really good. I hoped it was the last one though because I really didn't want to flip on the news channel to find the news of another death splashed across the screen; I made a mental note to make some calls later to be sure.

 _Let me clarify this for you, I am not a gun for hire or an assassin. There is a reason I operate alone and have managed to stay under the radar this long. Besides…What makes you think that I will work for you or even trust you? Or that you will keep your word for that matter?_ —AshAngel13

 _Oh ye of little faith. Who said anything about killing people? I have more than enough men to do that. No, what I need are connections. Connections that you have or can easily get._ —Silas

 _I prefer to think that I am overly cautious with good reason. And who said anything to dissuade me otherwise? Still, what kind of connections are we talking about?_ —AshAngel13

I could almost imagine that albino tinman, Silas, grinning predatorily as he typed:

 _Why the only kind of connections there are my dear. Considering your reputation, you have enough power to persuade certain parties into making deals with me._ —Silas

 _So that's what you want me to be? Your face-girl then? Your little poster gal?_ —AshAngel13

 _I would prefer to say an asset with useful connections._ —Silas

 _It doesn't matter what you call it. You are asking me to actually set you up with potential business partners since my name may gain favor with them. And don't think I haven't forgotten my previous questions. You still haven't even answered me as to why I should trust you or even be a part of your schemes. Last I checked, you actually tried to kill me. I owe you nothing._ —AshAngel13

 _My dear Nix, are you still mad about that? We didn't even know each other yet, so why hold a grudge? And if I remember correctly, we did give you a warning in advance that we would be helping ourselves. You are partially at fault as well. Anyways, yes, it is true we owe each other nothing, but I figured that this would be a mutually beneficial partnership. You get information, and I get a new, lucrative connections._ —Silas

 _Information can be easily found through other methods; I don't need you._ —AshAngel13

 _True, you don't need me, and you can't trust me, but I am probably the only one who can get you what you need for that information to be of use to you._ —Silas

 _And what will happen when our partnership ends? What will happen then? Will I become another corpse in your wake?_ —AshAngel13

 _My dear, do you really trust me so little?_ —Silas

 _Yes. And nothing you say will guarantee that I will survive this._ —AshAngel13

 _Remind me exactly who fights for a living?_ —Silas

 _Remind me again who fights against their own government?_ —AshAngel13

 _Touché._ —Silas

 _So, again, what happens to me when our partnership comes to an end? No BS. I know better than anyone that nothing ever lasts._ —AshAngel13

There was a brief pause, like he was thinking of what to say, before Silas replied.

 _I will tell you what, Miss Darknight: How about we meet up sometime in the near future and discuss the terms of our partnership? No tricks, no lies, just a simple face to face interview between potential partners at a location of your choosing. Sound fair?_ —Silas

My eyes narrowed at the words. I trusted Silas about as much as I believed that Miko had a serious chance at becoming the next U.S. President.

 _Let me think on this. I need some time to come to a decision._ —AshAngel13

 _Very well. I will talk to you again soon._ —Silas

And with that, he signed off. It wasn't until immediately after that I realized how tense I was, muscles stiff, joints aching and back so straight that it would impress a picky drill sergeant. Exhaling slowly, I let all the tension drain away, leaving behind only a mess of emotions playing ping-pong in my head.

"This is an absolute clusterfuck."

And it really was. This entire freaking ordeal with MECH was one big—no _giant_ , mess.

Unseen to me, the mech raised an optic ridge at me, our previous argument a thing of the past.

I put my face tiredly in my hands, rubbing under my eyes gently as if I could already feel bags from countless sleepless nights, forming there. "Silas, he just offered me a job. He says it's just a mutual partnership since he wants my connections, but…" I sighed, rubbing my forehead before trying again. "But I know it will not be just that. With power-hungry men like Silas, it will never be enough." I looked up to meet the bot's blue optics, almost saddened when I realized that it wasn't the exact shade of blue I had come to love. "I told him I would think about it, but I don't expect he will give me much time."

"Why?"

There was no outrage, no accusation, no emotion what so ever in that simple word. Just a simple plea for knowledge as to why I would even consider such an idea.

And with some hesitance, I told him. "Because this may be my only chance to take MECH down for good."

Taking time to scrutinize me for a moment, the bot grunted eventually, the sound coming out a little disbelieving and derisive. "Good luck with that squishy."

"Oh we're doing nickname throwbacks now? Wonderful," I deadpanned, rolling my eyes before returning back to the device in my lap.

* * *

—Dream—

 _We, that is to say Orion and I, were in a library this time. Or at least I think it was a library since we were surrounded by several ginormous maze of shelves that were lined with multiple flat devices that almost resembled iPad's._

 _As always, my surroundings were large enough for Orion, which is to say that they were several hundred times greater than my own meager stature._

 _And to think I was considered tall when compared to other human girls._

 _Anyways, glancing over at my guide, it wasn't hard to discern that something was definitely up with Orion. He kept using more force than necessary when typing and would often pause, considering something, before deleting a pervious line and starting again. Those light blue optics of his seemed dimmer than usual, distracted even, as he frowned lightly at the computer database in front of him. It didn't take a genius to know that something was troubling the bot._

 _What had happened? Where was Orion's new best friend, 'Megatronus'?_

 _Then there was the hurried pounding of large footsteps and a second later, a Cybertronian mech even larger than Megatron emerged from the technical maze, looking a little winded as he stopped, causing Orion to look over at him._

 _Gaping up at him, I realized with some surprise that the royal purple and fire engine red mech was actually a bit older. I mean, he could literally pull an Albus Dumbledore and tuck his long metal beard into his waistband or thrown it over his shoulder like a scarf, (if Cybertronians wore pants or had scarves that is)._

 _Anyways, Orion seemed to hold a great deal of respect for the wizened-looking mech and stood attentively as the other mech approached, waiting for him to speak._

 _Immediately upon looking into the older bot's blue optics, I noticed that there was a sort of nervous energy to the aged intelligence the orbs of light seemed to hold; an ever present worry for the future like he could see a massive storm was about to descend._

" _Orion," the bot called out, sounding rushed. His aura reminded me a bit of Optimus's, commanding yet soothing. However, he seemed a little more bookish despite the powerful yet somewhat subdued leader-like persona he held._

" _Alpha Trion, what has happened?" the perceptive bot immediately asked._

 _The older bot, Alpha Trion, looked forlorn. "It has begun," he said in a deep but somewhat rusty-wheezy voice. "Megatron has declared war and is now amassing his forces for an assault on Kaon."_

 _Orion looked startled, if a little sad at the mention of Megatron. "Primus. Whatever can we do?"_

 _For some reason, an unreadable expression came over Alpha Trion's face, and I got an uneasy feeling. What could it be?_

 _Placing a large servo on Orion's shoulder, the elderly bot smiled wanly in what I guessed was supposed to be a comforting, almost fatherly, gesture. "Orion, I need you to go and check on the core. Make sure—"_

" _The core?!" my more naïve-looking version of Optimus interrupted, aghast, optics as wide. "Surely I am—"_

" _Orion!" A-3 said more firmly this time. "You must do this for me. Please."_

 _For a moment, it almost looked like Orion was going to argue, but instead he seemed to steel himself, finding his resolve and squaring his shoulders before nodding firmly at his mentor. Then the red and blue bot turned and walked away._

 _Unbidden, I decided to follow Orion because I found his presence slightly familiar and almost alluring, just like with Optimus. I nearly blushed at that last thought, but with a shake of my head, I glanced back at Alpha Trion one last time to see his expression and…_

 _A blur of images assaulted me, and the last things I ever saw or heard before darkness greeted me was a blindingly bright light and a yell of surprise turning into a scream of pain._

Jolting awake so fast I almost gave myself whiplash, I somehow belatedly realized that I wasn't in bed like usual but was actually still sitting at my desk, having apparently fallen asleep if the spiral notebook indents were anything to go by.

Checking the nearby clock, I nearly did a double take. Rubbing my eyes and face with a couple slaps to the cheeks to wake me up, I found that I was indeed not hallucinating. Had I really only been asleep for a couple hours? Bloody sweet Christmas…

* * *

—Later—

If I had gotten into smoking during my time on the streets, I would have probably had a stream of smoke coming out of my mouth and a lit cigarette clinched between my middle and index fingers. As it was, I just opted to lean back against the frame of my garage door and stare uncomprehendingly out into the sky as the blue faded to orange, occasionally sipping from a metal flask which held some Moscato d'Asti. Sure I was technically underage and should not even be drinking wine in the first place, but I was smart enough to know my limits unlike some other people. Besides, it was better than going to fights every night like I usually would when I am stressed. What with June invading base with her overbearing presence and Ironhide was getting on my nerves, I needed something to help me relax.

 _What to do?_ I absently wondered. In my mind, wisps of ideas and thoughts swirled around like dust, forming images only for them to be blown away and replaced by another thought.

My sister Isabelle…

MECH…

Fighting to survive on the streets…

My dreams…

Raoul's death…

The Autobot's…

My mother and sisters…

Megatron and the Decepticon's…

Countless blood fights…

The man who mutilated my arm…

Optimus…

Unknowingly, I smiled at that last one, eyes lightening ever so slightly.

He was always so sweet. A bit stupidly brave and selfless at times (at least in my opinion), but he always made it out. Despite the toll the war had no doubt taken on him, it seemed to me that he somehow managed to see both the light and dark in someone but still optimistically hoped for the light to win out.

The smile grew as I stared into nothingness.

I could almost see him now. That tall, noble bearing that just seemed to ooze this leader-like aura. Those intriguing blue optics that seemed both wise and burdened but still youthfully twinkled with a healthy curiosity on occasion when something caught his interest but would become like steel when faced against extreme odds. The royal blue helm with pointed audial fins and crest with little minute Cybertronian etchings all over it. Strong, proud shoulders that accentuated his regal, leader-like bearing and had little smokestacks poking out from behind, which also held two of the tires used for his v-mode while the rest were attached to his legs. Red chassis with windows from his v-mode, and dark grey strips on both of his 'ribs.' And finally the royal blue on his legs which just made him—

I shook myself. _Get your head out of the gutter girl._

He was Cybertronian; I was human. Even if I liked him that way—which I didn't by the way—it would not work out. I just admired him because he was such a great leader and an awesome friend. Yeah, that was it. Nothing romantic about our relationship here.

A faint _bzzt bzzt_ coming from my back pocket drew me out of my thoughts. Pulling out the little black device, I nearly choked on air when I saw who was texting me.

 _Would you like to go for a drive?_ —Optimus

" _Quand on parle du loup, on en voit la queue_ ," I muttered, half-amused, half-…I don't know what. (When we talk about the wolf, we see the tail).

Quickly, I typed back a reply, running back into the garage to get ready and tell Ironhide to behave while I was gone. I totally didn't add an extra burst of energy to accelerate my efforts because I was eager to see my guardian or anything.

 _Sure. C U soon. Just closing up shop._ —Aria

* * *

—Optimus' POV, Later—

Looking down at the limp form of his charge in his servo, Optimus had trouble repressing the fond smile that threatened to form on his lipplates.

"Okay, here's another one for you," the girl said. "So let's say another Autobot has arrived on Earth, but you aren't sure if you can trust them. What do you do?"

After picking up his charge from her mechanics shop, the two of them had driven off together toward destinations unknown until they had finally come across this nice secluded spot where he could transform and stretch his limbs.

During the ride though, both of them had merely opted to remain in mutual comfortable silence at first as they drove around. It did not last long though as somehow, Aria had converted the silence into an odd conversational game where both of them would ask each other questions. Well, mostly, it was Aria who was asking the questions, but he found that he didn't mind answering them. In fact, it had proved to be quite enjoyable so far. He especially liked to watch how Aria's eyes would dance a little when she was thinking of a clever question to ask or inventing a carefully worded response to one of his queries. For some reason, every time he saw it, his spark would flutter a little for some strange, unknown reason.

In any case, Optimus considered the question carefully before answering. "If you are talking about like what happened with Wheeljack, I would say that it would depend on who the Autobot is. Despite being the leader of the Autobots, I do not know all of the soldiers who fight for my cause." He did not fail to notice how she seemed a little disappointed by that answer; so he continued on. "However, if they happened to be somebot I do know, I would probably ask them something that only they would know."

The girl nodded in understanding. "Makes sense."

She fell silent after that and the need to smile began tugging at the corners of his lipplates again. His charge, who had managed to climb up into his servo not too long after he had transformed—her reasoning being that it was easier to speak to him that way without craning her neck back so ridiculously far—had flopped down in the palm of his servo in such an unreservedly careless fashion that he could not help but find rather very cute. A fact of which was not helped by the fact that he now imagined her speaking in that accent she had earlier.

Now that he thought about it, she really reminded him of a cybercat, and it wasn't just because of the unconcerned manner in which she was sprawled out on his servo. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, and was bound to no one unless she wanted to be. Even her mysterious and sometimes unusual ways of showing emotions were something he considered to be very much cat-like; mysterious yet caring. And he didn't even need to mention the way she fought, with a deadly grace and precision that would undoubtedly make some femme's jealous.

"So what's the occasion?" the object of his thoughts finally prodded, an almost amused smirk in place though her eyes were still closed.

"There is no particular reason," he said. "You just look like you could use a break."

Her optics finally snapped open, and she looked over at him curiously. It looked as though she were trying to assess something about him or find the answer to a question among his features. Finally, she smirked dryly, "So you noticed then."

Of course he had noticed. Ever since that day where they had had that talk about MECH, he had noticed how his charge seemed to be turning up with more and more bruises, scrapes and scratches littered across her frame accompanied by a look in her features that suggested that she had not been recharging well if at all. It worried him immensely, but he had yet to say anything to her about it, though he wanted to.

Realizing he had yet to say anything, Optimus nodded in confirmation. "Yes, but I did not want to push you."

Her eyes seemed to warm and lighten somewhat at the words, like someone was trying to melt a silver object down or something. "Sweet of you," he heard her say softly though he didn't think she intended for him to hear the utterance.

Still, he couldn't help how his frame warmed slightly at the complement. Hopefully the human girl didn't notice the temperature change though, because he wasn't sure if he would survive explaining to her that he was technically _blushing_ without his cooling fans turning on.

"Hey Optimus," she suddenly called to him from out of the blue. Her voice sounded somewhat distant and distracted, like she wasn't really all that aware of what she was saying, but still strong enough to draw his attention towards her. "I was wondering…have you always been a Prime?"

Immediately, Optimus stiffened ever so slightly at the question, unconsciously pausing in all other movements as well; he didn't notice how his charge froze as well immediately after the words left her lips.

"What makes you ask that?" he inquired cautiously.

The golden-haired girl shuffled nervously in his servo, bringing up one of her small servos to take the tie out of her hair and start undoing the weaving it was in. It was almost impressive how long the thin golden strands were, falling haphazardly in her face as she spoke. "While I don't exactly know the exact significance of the title of Prime, I do know one thing for sure: One is never born into greatness; it is earned." It was the truth but not the whole truth. What was she hiding?

Silence fell between them, and Optimus wondered if he should tell her or not. It had been so long since he had told anyone that and only a few select bots were privy to such information, or at least the full story.

However…Aria was certainly accomplished at keeping secrets. The only question that remained was _should he?_

Eventually, he came to a conclusion.

"To answer your question: no, I was not." Optimus did not look at her, but he could see the girl looking at him from the corner of his optics. What was that odd expression on her face? Why did she look so unsurprised? Like he had just confirmed her previous suspicions?

"Were…did you have another name then?" she asked him nervously, fidgeting with a little item around her finger that made a tiny clinking sound as it rattled and spun.

He didn't answer her.

"I-I'm sorry, Optimus. I shouldn't have—" she immediately began to apologize, evidently thinking from his silence that she had somehow offended him.

"Orion."

She paused in her spluttering, blinking up at him confusedly. "Huh?"

"Orion Pax was my name," he told her, faceplates contorted into an impassive mask.

The girl blinked once, twice, completely silent and expression unreadable. He absently wondered what she was thinking right now. Her silence was actually making him a little nervous.

Finally, though, she spoke. "Orion Pax, huh?" she said, trying out the name. "I like it."

* * *

—Aria's POV—

I blame my illegal consumption of wine. As soon as the words to the question left my mouth, my entire body froze and my inner voices started caterwauling at me.

It don't know what it was that made me say it, but I just happened to be thinking of my dreams of Orion Pax, and the next thing I know, I'm asking Optimus if he has always been a Prime.

Well it was too late to back out now.

Anyways, as soon as the red and blue mech heard what I said, his entire seemed to freeze as if time had suddenly stopped.

"What makes you ask that?" he enquired, a note of caution in his voice.

 _Uh-oh, better tread lightly_.

"While I don't exactly know the exact significance of the title of Prime," I admitted truthfully. "I do know one thing for sure: One is never born into greatness; it is earned." _Plus, I've been having these weirder-than-usual dreams about this mech named Orion Pax who looks and acts almost exactly like you_ , I added mentally, hoping my guardian would simply accept my answer.

Silence fell between us and I almost began to think that he wasn't going to answer me. I mean he certainly seemed to be thinking awfully hard about something. So imagine my surprise when he finally said, "To answer your question: no, I was not."

Optimus did not look at me, but I knew he could feel my curious gaze on him.

"Were…did you have another name then?" I hedged cautiously. I was so close; I could feel it. I just didn't know what I was exactly close to.

In a fit of nervous energy, I started playing with the little spinner ring around my right index finger.

He didn't answer, and immediately, I thought I had crossed some kind of boundary.

"I-I'm sorry, Optimus. I shouldn't have—"

"Orion."

I paused in my blubbering. "Huh?"

"Orion Pax was my name."

 _I knew it!_

Forcefully, I schooled my expression into one of curiosity, trying not to let it be known that I sort of already knew his pre-Prime name. It wouldn't do for him to get suspicious of me.

"Orion Pax, huh?" I finally said, pleased that my tone came out cool and thoughtful as I tried out the name. "I like it."

I almost missed how Optimus, even with that impassive mask in place, seemed to relax a little upon hearing the words. But I definitely caught the small yet visible and highly attractive smile that managed to make its way onto his features.

 _If only moments like these could last forever…_

* * *

—Later—

Later that night, I found myself typing a response to Silas' offer. It hadn't been easy, reaching a sound decision, but I finally decided on what I was going to do. If I had to choose between saving my own skin and protecting Izzy, the kids, Optimus and the bots, I would always choose the latter options in a heartbeat.

…Even if it meant making a deal with Satan himself.

 _Silas, you have yourself a deal._ —AshAngel13

 _But know this: If you betray me, I will personally make sure that you crash and burn. This I promise you._ —AshAngel13

I logged out without another word.

Optimus was going to kill me.

* * *

Okay so that happened. Aside from that, I don't have much to declare here except that I have a bloody headache and I will not enforce the **Five Review Policy** for this chapter thanks to all the feedback I got and as an apology for updating so late. But if you want to review then please do.


	21. Claustrophobia

Hey all! Here's another chapter for you guys. Hopefully you like it, and it's a little more original than most reader-inserts you folks have ever read. Not to toot my own horn or anything, I certainly haven't ever read something like this before. So please enjoy!

Again, thank you to all who reviewed, favorited and followed myself and this story. You guys are awesome. That especially includes **Cinematronix** , **X Valkyrie Prime X** , **Sfrizz5959** , **WolfAssassin369** , **Great i dea** , **Gundam** , **Guest 1** , and **bajy**. Thank you so much!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime or any other recognizable works.

* * *

 **Chapter 21: Claustrophobia**

"Optimus Prime you let me out right now!" the golden-haired girl thundered, eyes seeming to glow with her fury despite how tired she was. Oh he was so going to get it if he did not release her this instant.

"No," her guardian growled back. He had had enough.

"Let. Me. Out." Her silvery eyes were definitely blazing now as she roared looking almost crazed with her need to be freed.

" _ **NO!**_ "

* * *

—Twelve Hours Earlier, Aria's POV—

Attempting to suppress another yawn, I wished for the umpteenth time I could get my hands on a couple buckets of caffeine. Ever since I had signed on with Silas, I had been attending more and more fights as of late, attempting to improve my underground connections. I was trying to cautious with where I went so as to not give any clues as to where I live, driving several hundred miles out of my way to get to another fight in a neighboring state. I had tried to cram in a couple power naps here and there when I could, but I found that opportunities for those were few and far in between. I had already hit the 48-hour mark of no sleep a couple minutes ago and from the looks of how things were going, I was no doubt going to reach the 72-hour mark eventually too.

I massaged my face wearily.

Freaking fantastic. The next thing I know, I'll be breaking my record of going a week straight without any sleep at all. I almost pitied those unfortunate enough to get on my bad side in the coming days; I was probably going to be even more short tempered than before.

I knew I could probably lay off a bit but I also needed Silas to truly believe that I was going to work with him. Which meant that I needed to give 110% into this gig otherwise he'd be suspicious. After all, I knew from experience that men like Silas were never easily fooled. And I needed to do just that to beat this man at his own game.

So for now it was bye-bye to 'Aria Leisure Time' and hello to The Dark Phoenix.

Thankfully no one at base had seemed to notice yet.

* * *

—Optimus's POV—

Glancing over at his charge for the fifth time since she had arrived at base, he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong with Aria. She seemed worn down, almost haggard, as of late. Her eyes were darker, and the whites of them almost looked to be somewhat yellowed and bloodshot. He had even noticed the beginnings of shadows starting to form under her eyes, threatening to become worse with each passing day. If that wasn't bad enough, a new wave of fresh scars and bruises had started appearing on her skin with a renewed ferocity it seemed. Where one day there could be a half healed bruise on her shoulder, a new scar or scrape could appear the next day right on top of it like a disease before the first even had time to heal.

Not only that, but he had noticed that Aria had started to withdraw from their group. She was a lot quieter than usual, barely piping up anymore to make one of her typical sarcastic, witty remarks. Even then, the only ones that did come out were more snappish and openly hostile.

To say these facts worried him was an understatement. Not only was someone hurting his charge—as it could have only been a human that caused the hand-shaped bruise he saw once on her—but she was apparently working herself to death for some unknown reason.

"She doesn't look too good does she?" said a quiet voice to his left.

Turning, Optimus found Ratchet staring at Aria with a slight frown on his faceplates, having apparently followed his gaze to his charge. The older mech looked to be concerned as he was, if not a little more so since he was a medic after all. The wellbeing of others would always be the top concern of his oldest friend.

Silently, Optimus nodded.

Suddenly, an odd expression came over the red-and-white mech's faceplates as he said carefully, "Optimus, you know as well as I do how stubborn she is. Whatever that femme is up to, she will push herself until she offlines or otherwise." He met Optimus' optics briefly. "Maybe you should talk to her. You are the only one she seems to listen to."

The Prime hummed lowly, nodding once again. "Thank you, old friend. I shall…think on your words. I often find that approaching certain subjects head-on rarely ever works with her."

The older mech made a sound of assent but did not comment further, instead returning to his work at the monitors.

As soon as the other mech was no longer within range though, Optimus quietly sighed. Now all he had to do was figure out how to get through to his stubborn charge.

* * *

—Later, Aria's POV—

Aria should have known that something was up the second she looked into her guardian's optics. As it was though, the blonde-haired girl remained blissfully ignorant as she approached Optimus to request to go with him on his next scouting mission.

With exhaustion and insurmountable amounts of stress bearing down on her, she found that she yearned more often for the moments she got to spend with Optimus. It seemed like those instances were the only brief respite she got where she didn't have to act like a total emotionless bitch.

So, approaching the tallest of the Autobot's, Aria could not suppress the odd little trill of pleasure that went through her when her guardian took note of her presence, bending down and offering his servo for her to climb into.

"Optimus—"

"Aria—"

They both paused when they realized that they were trying to speak at the same time. Had they both been alone, Aria felt that both of them may have smiled, maybe even laughed a little at the foolishness of the moment. As it was, Optimus, being ever the courteous gentlemech he was, inclined his head toward her, a touch of amusement in his optics.

The corner of Aria's lips twitched, but she took the invitation to speak first anyways. "Hey big guy, I was just wondering if I could tag along again with you."

Usually, directly after she asked that question, Optimus would immediately say yes. This time however, those Persian blue optics of his darkened slightly and there was a brief and unusual moment of stillness between the two of them before he answered. And once again, all this should have sent red flags up, but Aria foolishly remained ignorant, choosing to become more concerned for her guardian.

She didn't notice the meaningful look Ratchet gave the Prime.

"Aria, I…I am sorry but no. I cannot allow for you to come with me," he rumbled in a quiet undertone.

Her brows furrowed as she frowned a little. Why did she feel so sad all of a sudden?

Reining hold over her emotions so as to not show any emotion on her face, Aria swallowed with some difficulty before speaking. "What's this about, Optimus? Is something wrong?" She paused, thinking for a moment and then added, "Have _I_ done something wrong?"

Appear almost saddened, the bot shook his great head. "No Aria, but cannot allow you to go into the field the way you are. Especially considering the state you are currently in."

"Excuse me?" she snapped, tone rising slightly as anger took hold. "'The state' I am in? What the Hell does that mean? I am perfectly fine."

As if he had been expecting her outburst, Optimus did not look offended but her tone, merely waited patiently for her to finish speaking so he could say his piece.

"No you are not," he argued back, his tone steady and gentle but still firm and commanding. "Pardon my plain speaking but you look dead on your feet, Aria. You can barely stay awake let alone operate efficiently enough to anticipate a Decepticon attack. I do not know what you are doing to run yourself so ragged, but you cannot go on like this, Aria. You need to rest before you work yourself to death."

Aria scowled deeply, channeling her best imitation of her mother's iciest look. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much Optimus. I don't need you to baby me."

Amazingly, the Prime did not flinch. "Be that as it may, I will not risk you being harmed on the account of you being too exhausted to defend yourself."

Aria opened her mouth to argue again but Optimus cut her off. "So, I am hereby banning you from accompanying myself or any of the Autobot's on their missions until I am satisfied with your health."

Once again, she was about to speak, but Optimus looked her dead in the eyes and said in a very clear tone. "This is not up for debate, Aria."

Like magic, Aria's expression was wiped clean of any emotion whatsoever. However, underneath that stony façade, anger bubbled and simmered like a pit of lava. The only indicators of her emotional turmoil were the stiffness in her posture and the way her eyes seemed to glow like a cumulonimbus cloud would during an electrical storm.

She felt a little hurt to say the least. While Aria wasn't quite insulted, she still felt like her heart had just taken a steep plummet. Those times she got to spend with Optimus were the only excuses she could give herself to relax, and now he was banning her?

Knowing she could not win this argument, Aria eventually looked away and allowed herself the be set upon one of the catwalks as her guardian walked away. Never once did she look at him.

* * *

—Later—

Leaning against a boulder not too far away, I only half-listened as Miko complained loudly about our current location, a forested place with a big, rocky clearing.

"We're supposed to be at a rock concert, but all I see is rock," the Japanese girl bemoaned unabashedly, pacing a bit as Jack yawned, leaning lazily against a pile of rock boulders as we all waited for Arcee and Bulkhead to return from inside the abandoned mine.

So yeah, if you hadn't figured already, I had pulled a classic "Miko", quietly managing to tag along with the two kids and their guardians when Ratchet's back was turned. It was a reckless move, I know, but I think I just wanted to spite my guardian as payback for basically confining me to base.

Still, I seriously regretted not bringing anything with me now to keep me busy; I hadn't even brought one of my batons to twirl.

Anyways…

"Relax, Miko," Jack waved off, still casually lounging about in the afternoon sun. "The show doesn't start for two hours."

In a flash, the foreign exchange student was up in his face. "Do you know how long I've waited to see Slash Monkey?"

"Uh—"

"Forever!" she exploded. "And it's their only U.S. date!"

I rolled my eyes, listening as Jack said sarcastically:

"There's a shock," Jack said dryly. "I mean, who doesn't love obscure Bulgarian shriek metal?"

I snorted quietly.

 _Primus, Jack you definitely have been hanging around me too much._

Usually, I would have made a sarcastic remark like that aloud, but I was a little too concerned with being unnerved at how close we were to the abandoned excavation site. Seriously, cramped, dark places and me should never be mixed together; that is just asking for it.

Thankfully though, I was saved from having to listen to the two bicker as Arcee and Bulkhead returned from scouting the abandoned Energon mine, discussing what they had found.

"By all appearances, the mine's been stripped," I managed to catch the small, blue femme saying.

"But I'm getting a signal," Bulkhead put in, gazing at the beeping device in his hand. "It's faint, but it's definitely Energon."

"Whoa," Miko gasped excitedly, sharing a look with Jack.

I didn't need to see her face to know she was eventually going to get in trouble. After all, this was Miko we were talking about here. She always acted before she thought things through.

Standing a little straighter, I watched as the two bots eventually stopped, both looking a little concerned.

"Doesn't make sense," Arcee said, shaking her helm. "This operation has been abandoned four, maybe five years. And Decepticons never leave Energon behind."

Silently, I nodded, understanding what she was getting at. Usually, a find like this would spell a trap for the Autobots. However, if Arcee was correct in her judgement with how long the operation had been abandoned…something just didn't add up.

Hopping off my perch, I approached the two, intent on adding my two cents in. "Could it possibly be mining equipment your picking up the signal from?"

The two turned towards me, the smaller of the two being the one to explain things to me.

"Not likely," the femme said. "The mining equipment the Decepticon's use is hard to come by, let alone make. They almost always tidy up a mining site before picking up heading to another location."

"Besides," Bulkhead added, "the scanner only picks up on exposed or raw Energon."

"Meaning that unless something or someone had sprung a leak down there," I finished slowly, putting the pieces together, "either something really weird is going on or the Con's really did forget to mine some Energon."

We all looked troubled at that. But before the conversation could continue, Jack suddenly got our attention.

"Uh, guys?" he called from his spot, pointing.

At his prompting, we all turned toward the entrance to the mine, just in time to see Miko disappear into its dark depths saying, "Cool!"

Mentally, I did a face-palm. _Why am I not surprised?_

"She went in. Unbelievable," Arcee said, sounding like she was having a mental face-palm moment too.

"Really?" Jack snarked, moving forward. "Have you _met_ her?"

In a way, I was almost surprised Jack hadn't stopped her—and maybe he had and I just didn't know—but I guess when push came to shove, he got tired of attempting to stop Miko's shenanigans too.

"What he said," I grumbled, massaging my temples as I could already feel another 'Miko mischief' induced migraine coming on. I already wasn't too fond of being so close to what would inevitably be a dark, closed in space, but Miko always seemed to know how to make it worse.

Despite probably being accustomed to Miko's bouts of recklessness, Bulkhead groaned exasperatedly, before charging into the mine after her, calling, "Miko, get back here!"

"It would be kind of interesting to see," Jack admitted aloud before taking note of his guardian's facial expression and quickly adding, "You know, if it were–"

"Safe?" Arcee finished, strolling over and placing a servo on her hip. "A stripped mine can be structurally unstable, Jack."

Forcefully, I repressed the urge to shiver. _Don't I know that_. I didn't need a reminder of how easily I could be trapped in a lightless, confined space like a rat in a trap and then—

"I promise to step lightly."

I blinked, focusing back on reality when I heard that sentence tumble from my adopted brother's lips. He couldn't seriously be thinking of going down there, could he? I glanced at Arcee. She wouldn't let him…right?

So imagine my surprise when the femme merely said, "Just don't tell your mom."

They both glanced back at me.

"Coming, Aria?" Arcee asked.

Blinking once again and swallowing back what could have been traces of bile, I nodded stiffly, managing to choke out a curt 'yes' before following behind the two. Inaudibly though, I sent up a wordless prayer to whatever deity was listening, praying that this wouldn't end up like all the other Miko-related clusterfucks. I don't think I could handle it if something were to go wrong down here of all places.

* * *

—Megatron's POV—

Angling his vehicle-mode towards the ground, the Decepticon warlord transformed several human yards above the ground, landing with a firm _thud_ , his traitorous second-in-command following close behind. Sunlight glinted off his heavily scarred armor, but the red-opticed mech paid it no heed, instead surveying the dry location with the yawning, black cavity in the middle of it.

Inwardly, the mech smirked, pleased with the coordinates his third-in-command, Soundwave, had provided. Yes, this would be the perfect place to end this little charade and a certain nuisance along with it.

Behind him, he could practically hear the sniveling seeker 'sweating bullets' as the humans would say.

"Uh, Lord Megatron," Starscream rasped, nervousness evident in his tone despite how much the coward tried to hide it. "Far be it from me to question your intentions, but I do not understand why we've returned here after all this time…alone," he trailed off, and the former gladiatorial champion did not have to imagine how the grey and silver seeker's blood-red optics were darting about nervously as he followed in Megatron's wake as the large mech headed toward the large mine entrance. "Uh—Every last trace of Energon was extracted from this mine. There's…nothing left."

Megatron quietly snorted; the mech sounded as if he was trying to convince himself of the fact rather than the large, grey mech in front of me.

Turning the warlord glanced back at the sniveling seeker with a miniscule touch of amusement in his optics. It was no secret to Megatron that seekers were not overly fond of confined spaces, but he knew all too well that Starscream's fear did not have anything to do with genetic coding.

 _Good, let the coward sweat a little._

"Indulge me, Starscream, won't you?" he requested, acting for all the world that he merely wanted to take a stroll through an abandoned mining operation.

Sunlight flooded in from the chambers above.

Leisurely strolling through the network of tunnels—the map of which had been provided to him by his ever-loyal TIC—Megatron was both pleased and angered by the sight of the mining drills that had obviously been abandoned along with the operation; angered by Starscream's obvious incompetence, and pleased to find more damning evidence to convict the sniveling coward with.

"How intriguing," Megatron merely said instead, a low growl evident in his tone as he turned his optics to the smaller Cybertronian next to him. Anyone who knew well enough could just hear the silent promise of pain in those two words.

True to his high and mighty seeker heritage, Starscream went on to blame anyone but himself. "Incompetent fools!" he snarled, stomping forward, growling with his wings taut and closely pulled together on his back struts in a show of anger. But Megatron knew better; he knew it was merely an attempt to seem ignorant of any crime. "This mining equipment should have been relocated. Why is it still here?"

Still, the gladiator did not provide an answer, preferring to wait a little before revealing the real reason of why they were there. He wanted the spineless mech to feel the pressure coming down on him before delivering the final blow.

"A most valid question," was Megatron said instead, watching as the seeker flinched at the sound of his voice before turning around to face him.

"My apologies, master. I believe Soundwave was in charge of coordinating transport," the seeker excused, before quickly adding upon the darkening of Megatron's expression and low growling, "But in fairness, during your interstellar travels, we all had to assume additional responsibilities. Clearly, mistakes were made."

It was in moments like these that Megatron remembered why he despised Starscream but kept him around anyways.

Thanks to how snotty and self-absorbed most seekers naturally were, Starscream very much reminded Megatron of the politicians from back on Cybertron. Each one was more stuck-up, snobbish, and self-centered than the last. Very much like how Starscream was. Oh how Megatron remembered how much he _hated_ each and every single one of those _pigs_. Unlike him, they never cared about the other Cybertronian's out there who were struggling to survive just _another_ _day_ while these pompous fools grew fat and bloated thanks to their vast fortunes.

Which is mostly why he kept Starscream around despite all of his transgressions: he reminded Megatron so much of those fools. Maybe his true motives were sort of twisted in a way, but each time he put Starscream in his place, he felt like he was getting back at all the politicians who had oppressed and looked down on others like himself. And Primus did it feel _wonderful_.

Which is why it was so laughable to watch Starscream try and cover for himself now. Of course, little did the seeker know that he was already sinking fast and most definitely already in way over his head; there was no way he was digging himself out of this one.

"Yes. Clearly," Megatron finally said, feeling that now was as good a time as any to end this little farce. Then, using all the brute strength he had, Megatron plunged one of his clawed servos straight into a nearby wall of rock and withdrew it to show a large, unprocessed formation of Energon crystals. It looked to be enough to make a few decent cubes, though not many. "'Every last trace of Energon extracted'?" he mocked in a rumbling tone.

"Lord Megatron, I can explain," the mech began as Megatron advanced on him.

"Explain what? That you've been hoarding a supply of Energon for your personal use?" the warlord growled accusingly as he dropped the hunk of crystals that were then promptly turned to dust by his pede. He didn't need a lie-detector to know without a doubt that his guess was spot on; it was just the way the seeker's mind functioned.

"No! Not exactly," Starscream denied, but his little ship had sunk long ago and now it was time for him to pay the price. "You see, I—"

" **Do not take me for a fool, Starscream!** " the Decepticon Leader roared, red optics glowing brightly. It was time to lay it all on the table. "I have been wise to your transgressions from the beginning. Not only did you pluck the Dark Energon from my chest in a failed attempt to snuff my spark, but you tried to raise your own undead warrior with it. It's no secret that you lost an arm in the process, which you've since had replaced."

He was almost on top of the blubbering cretin now.

The smaller mech was shocked, squawking fearfully, "You know about that?!"

"Soundwave is quite competent at surveillance; I can assure you." _And much more loyal than two of you put together_. "The fact is, Starscream, despite your treachery, I've allowed you to carry on this long because I took a certain _delight_ in following your string of failures," he admitted. "But you've finally become tiresome, predictable. You've hit rock bottom."

By now the coward was on his knees with Megatron's cannon pointed straight in his faceplates, ready to blow the mech to oblivion.

"Master, please!" Starscream cried, knowing there was no other way to escape his fate, as he clasped his long, sharp-digits together in a pleading gesture. "Give me one more chance! I beg of you!"

Megatron sneered. This fool would do anything to save his own hide. He really hated when others attempted to beg for their lives; a more honorable bot would have either stood and fought or accepted their end. Those who scrambled, pleaded, and grasped at straws in the face of their demise, were less a bot than another weaselly cur.

So Megatron delivered what he expected to be some of the last parting words to the wretch before him, his cannon powering up all the while. "You have ceased to be of use to me, Starscream. So you shall simply cease to be," he thundered, as the grey seeker brought his servos up to his faceplates in a feeble attempt to block the impending blow.

It was almost poetic except then Starscream all of a sudden stopped pleading for his life, lowering his arms, and looking genuinely surprised as his gaze fixed on something else.

Taking a chance that it wasn't one of the seekers ploys to stop him from ending his life, Megatron followed the other mech's gaze and found himself a little stunned as well.

It was a couple of humans, but not just any humans: it was two of the Autobots little pets, one of which he knew belonged to Optimus himself.

For a nanoklick, no one moved. The two opposing sides just stood frozen, staring at each other in surprise; none of them had been expecting this. And in that brief respite before the blue Autobot femme walked out and effectively ended the standstill, Megatron's red gaze found and met the silver-grey one of the golden-furred, human femme from across the large chamber.

Then it was over, ending as the femme Arcee, grabbed both humans and pulled them behind a pillar of rock as Megatron released a war cry and started firing at them.

He could deal with Starscream later; defeating the Autobots always came first in this war, only becoming second priority when troop welfare was concerned.

Firing at the pillar behind when her knew the Autobot and human's lay, Megatron didn't give the femme a chance to return fire, barely managing to hear the femme's command to the humans to stay down. Typical Autobots, always trying to protect the humans.

However, things took a turn when Starscream, ever the coward, decided to bail on Megatron, releasing a short "Haaah!" as he went, like he was trying not to live up to his name and run away screaming, as he escaped through a tunnel.

"Starscream, you dare abandon me?!" he roared, turning to fire off a shot at the seeker in an attempt to finish him. But it was too late. The mech had escaped, and in that moment of distraction, the Autobot had used the interval to fire off her own weaker shots at his exposed back. Furious now, the giant grey and purple mech turned back to the fight only for the enemy fire to hit his arm and cause his aim to go wide and up toward the ceiling. Then the inevitable happened: the wild blaster fire shook enough rock loose to cause the mine's structure to destabilize. The whole place then began to rumble and shake as dust and rock of varied sizes rained down on all of them. Megatron just barely had time to look up and try to shield himself as a ginormous chunk of the ceiling broke loose and fell on top of him, causing the floor beneath him to crack like ice before eventually giving way completely, opening up and swallowing the warlord whole.

And that was the last thing Megatron knew as darkness descended.

* * *

—Aria's POV, Dream—

 _Like in those old horror movies where the dead rose from the grave, a clawed servo broke through a pile of rubble and rock. Managing to pull himself out of the rubble, the seeker looked back at the pile of rock before him, smirking triumphantly despite how damaged he was. He even managed to laugh a little, the evil sound shaking his dirty grey frame._

" _Predictable, master?" he crowed jubilantly, smirking like the cat who ate the canary. "Is that what you called me? Well, now who has hit rock bottom?"_

 _He held a servo up to his audial as if trying to listen for something. But from the gleam in his blood-red optics, it was obvious that the gesture was meant in mockery. "What's that? I'm sorry I can't hear you beneath all that rubble!" he laughed loudly, the sound reminiscent to the caw of a crow._

 _Oh this day was just too perfect. Not only would some of his enemies likely perish, but his former 'Master', his would-be executioner, was likely dead as well. Oh the irony!_

 _And now he was free to lead the Decepticon's all on his own, just like he wanted to and without much hindrance either once he did what his master failed to do and snuffed the spark of Optimus Prime._

" _Farewell, lord Megatron. May you rust in peace," he taunted._

 _He turned to go, managing to walk a couple steps, but then suddenly froze, a thought having to have struck him. "But you have survived far worse," he mumbled to himself, beginning to look as if the warlord had his cannon pointed at him again. "If you managed to free yourself, you would blame me for your setback, and there is nowhere that I could possibly escape from your wrath. Or, worse yet, your mindless followers will come looking for you and take credit for your rescue. Credit that could rightfully be mine."_

 _Without further ado, Starscream bellowed in frustration, screaming out the designation of the one who seemed to endlessly taunt him even in death. "Raaaah!_ **Megatron!** _"_

* * *

Bit by bit, my senses began to return to me and with it, so did most of the feeling in my body. Ow. Why did my body ache so much? What the hell had I done now? Taken on a whole army of ninja's or something? What the frag had—?

I froze, fear sinking its teeth into my soft in like autumn frost on a farmer's crop as memories came rushing back and comprehension eventually dawned.

 _Oh no, no, no. Please, for the love of all things holy, please let this all be a bad dream_.

Without my knowledge, my body began to tremble, breathing at an increased rate.

 _Oh god this cannot happen_.

"Come on Aria. It's just a nightmare", I tried to console myself. "Just a stupid, silly nightmare. I'll open my eyes and find that I am back in my shop, probably asleep at my desk thanks to all those long hours of fighting and this was all just some simple night terror." I took a deep breath. "Come on, Slade, get ahold of yourself. Just open your eyes and take another deep breath. Cowardice does not become you."

Talking probably wasn't the smartest thing to do since I couldn't feel any fresh breeze and I no doubt had already used up a considerable amount panicking, but I really needed the verbal encouragement at that moment.

Taking one last deep breath but feeling no less shaken, I propped myself up in a sitting position and managed to open my eyes.

What I saw—or rather _didn't_ see—however, did not bring me any comfort whatsoever. There was nothing; it all was completely pitch black. I could feel my eyes straining to the point of pain in an attempt to try and adjust to my evidently lightless surroundings, but I couldn't even see the outline of my nose as it was so dark. Of course, I didn't need my eyes to know that I was trapped in a very small, very dark, cramped space; my ears were sharp enough to pick up on the slight echo of my panicked breathing.

I began to shake as my heart rate picked up and my breathing became short and panicked. I knew that I was having a panic attack, but I couldn't find it in myself to bother enough to stop because for the first time in a very long time I was trapped in a dark space with no way out.

No, no, no! This can't be happening!

I was trapped; completely and utterly trapped.

Before I knew it, I had drawn in on myself like an armadillo, head between my legs, heart thundering in my ears, and breath coming in short, rapid bursts. I could feel how badly I was trembling but couldn't bring myself to care. I was too concerned with how the tight space I found myself in seemed to be closing in around me like a car in a trash compactor.

God this was one of my worst nightmare's come to life!

—Flashback—

"You damn brat!"

Aria's mother was in a towering temper. She wasn't sure what set the woman off this time. All she knew was that Layla was on the warpath and she was the only one home. If she didn't find a way to either leave or hide until her mother calmed down, it…well, it wouldn't be pretty.

Anyways, upon hearing the noise, little Aria scooped up her school bag and shoved all her homework and pencils into it before dashing towards her room, whispering, "Gonna make it. Gonna—"

"ARIA!" Layla roared upon catching sight of her daughter.

Immediately, Aria froze in her tracks. Then, ever so slowly, the little girl turned on the spot to face the Dark Ice Queen, rightfully fearful for what she would see. The child flinched. She knew she was caught.

Looking at the woman's face, the child knew no apt words that could describe how terrifying the Ice Queen's thunderous expression was.

So scared of what her mother was going to do, the child had no time to react before Layla's perfectly manicured hand found its way around her arm. Despite how non-athletic the woman was, Layla's grip on her arm was surprisingly strong, painful even, causing Aria to cry out.

"Momma, stop! It hurts! Please!"

The little girl struggled uselessly, fighting to get out of her mother's hold and terrified of what was going to happen. While her mother had never hurt her before (at the time), she did push her around a bit. But Aria was always fearful that one day, one day her mother would just completely snap and physically harm her.

"Shut the hell up!" Layla barked, eliciting a flinch and more tears from the eye of the struggling girl. "Just shut the hell up! I have had enough of your whining!"

The woman forcefully pulled the child through the darkened house.

Aria tried to obey her mother, but it was difficult to keep from crying out as her arm was crushed and the back of her heels were scraped across the carpet as her mother literally dragged her who-knew-where.

Then the next thing the child knew, Layla had opened some kind of door and threw her in. With a short exclamation of pain as her back collided with a wall, Aria managed to open her eyes in time to watch as her mother slammed the door shut in her face, plunging the little girl into darkness. Immediately, the youth began to panic, screaming and howling to get out. Apologizing profusely and hoping beyond hope that her mother would free her.

But all she got as a reward was the sound of something heavy slamming against the closet door and her mother screaming at her to shut up.

For what felt like hours, the little girl pounded, beat, scratched, pawed, and clawed at the evidently locket closet door, begging and pleading to be let out of the dark, cramped hall closet.

But no one came. It wasn't until two days later that one of her spiteful sisters had accidentally found her in the locked closest after her mother had apparently forgotten her there.

And thus Aria's combined case of claustrophobia and nyctophobia was born, fueled by the actions of her mother each time the Ice Queen locked her in that dark closet and forgot about her for days on end.

—Flashback End—

Again, I shivered, eyes wide and unseeing as memories of slowly going insane in the dark closet played in front of me instead. I barely had to use my imagination to remember how maddening the silence was with only my starvation and dehydration to keep me company.

Unconsciously, I drew my legs even closer to my body, shaking worse than the time I had jumped in a pool in the middle of winter. It seems that history could indeed repeat itself because I once again found myself trapped in a dark, cramped space with no idea when someone was going to come and get me out. Or if they ever would attempt to find me.

 _Shut up. Optimus will find us_ , a voice in my head reminded me.

I felt as my eyes began to glisten, even though they were both tightly shut.

 _But he was so cross with me earlier…and I went behind his back and snuck out of base without him knowing! If I died here, they wouldn't even know! Oh God!_

And like that I was once again bordering a full blown, screaming, crying panic attack as images of death ran through my head. It wasn't until I heard another voice speak—that wasn't one of my own inner voices—that I realized that I most definitely was not alone.

"So Optimus' little fleshling is nothing more than another sniveling coward. How… underwhelming."

My insides turned to lead as my entire frame went stiff as freshly fired clay. I knew who that voice belonged to. Turning, I nearly shrieked when I came face to face with Megatron himself. Okay, to be more accurate for the sticklers out there, it was more like my entire body to his face since I was sitting literally less than five feet away from his lopsided face.

Of all the people to be stuck with during a cave-in…

 _My god really has abandoned me hasn't he?_ I mentally groaned amidst all the other panicked scrambling in my brain. _Thank Primus I consider myself agnostic._

Trying to push myself into a defensive crouch (since I couldn't stand because of the ceiling), I admit that I felt somewhat proud of myself for being able to face the Decepticon leader despite my fear of the dark, cramped space I was in.

"You," I snarled, trying to focus on my dislike of the Cybertronian before me, instead of…other things.

"Oh, so the little cyber-kitty does have claws?" the gunmetal-grey con mocked.

I sneered at him, grateful I had not been reduced to tears as that would have made the fierce expression laughable. "Say's the giant piece of tin who can barely move," I retorted scathingly, referring to his obviously buried body as I could only see his head.

The con growled like an angry tiger, apparently greatly frustrated by this fact. I think he even tried to pry some of the rock away, but his efforts proved to be quite fruitless.

I smirked, deciding to mock him further. "Having fun there?"

I certainly was. Taunting the giant before me took the edge off my fears, though it still felt like the small was slowly shrinking.

"I will get out of this," he promised, red optics glaring at me. "And when I do fleshbag, I will take you and utterly crush you right in front of Optimus Prime's very optics. Right before I rip out his spark!"

Okay, now normally I would have reverted to my usual defense mechanism of sharp-witted, sarcastic humor, but this time around though it was not the case. I'm not sure what set it off. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the stress was getting to me. Who knows? Maybe it was my fear, or a combination of all three that set me off. Either way, immediately after Megatron's threat, I drew one of my baton's, shifted it to blade form, and had it pointing less than an inch from the warlord's left optic.

"Not if I kill you first," I snarled. Then, as naturally as if I were changing clothes, I could almost feel as I slipped into the mindset of the Dark Phoenix persona I so often used to intimidate street trash, smiling in an almost insane manner as I gently scraped the sharpened point of my staff under his optic. "Or maybe I'll just dissect you. I mean if you allowed yourself to be at the mercy of a mere human, something much smaller and weaker than you, then don't you deserve whatever fate awaits you? Right?"

Then the moment was gone, but some sadistic part of me enjoyed the minute unsettled look that passed through the ex-gladiator's blood-red optics. Still, it wasn't completely unexpected when Megatron, instead of cowering as most people would, merely gave me a shark-like grin and said, "Then seize the day femme! I guarantee that you will not get another chance such as this to finish me."

For a moment, I was completely silent, staring directly into the optics of the Cybertronian before me. He was right; it would be so easy just to finish him right here and now.

 _But would you really do it?_ Some part of me asked. _Would Optimus kill him?_

I knew the answer to both before the thought had fully formed. _No._

So, snorting derisively, I pulled back, shifting the short staff to its normal form and sheathing it, before laying back against some rock, closing my eyes and saying dryly, "As much as I would love for you to kick the bucket, I am not that type of person."

And that was true. Despite how it may seem with the blood fights and my altogether dangerous lifestyle, I wasn't a killer in the slightest. Sure I fought with the intent to kill, but no one had ever technically died by my hand. Sure, there were those who made the decision to fight me and later died, but as I saw it, they made a choice to do what they did and paid the price for it. I didn't kill them. But aside from that, my hands were pretty much clean; I have never killed anyone just for the sake of wanting them dead. (And as far as I was aware, no one had ever died by my and intentionally or otherwise).

And my case with Megatron was no different. Maybe he did deserve to die for what he has done, but I was not going to be the judge, jury, and executioner on this one.

Peeping my eyes open just a bit as I tried to relax and not think of just how scared I really was, I looked over at the con, intent on finishing my previous thought. I may not mean anything to him, but Optimus certainly still saw something in him. So, for the sake of my guardian, I would try and make the warlord understand, even if he did not care about what I had to say.

"Even for you and what you've done," I began slowly, trying to focus on calming thoughts, "I don't plan on changing that anytime soon. Maybe one day you'll meet your end, just not by my hand." _Unless you decide to force it_ , I mentally added.

"How intriguing," Megatron mused. "I wonder if it is fear or mercy that compels your actions fleshling."

I grunted. "Neither. I just don't see the point of killing you when all it will do is destabilize the Decepticon cause for a while before your cowardly second in command or someone else takes up the reins again."

"I see."

I raised a brow. "Do you? I somehow doubt that when this war _you started_ left Cybertron a barren, lifeless husk."

Surprisingly, the warlord did not get pissed at me (though I did notice brief flash of some emotion in his optics before it was quickly squashed). Instead, he just grinned maliciously and said, "Oh is that what Optimus told you little fleshling? Did he mention that our society was already doomed? That it was rotten to the core? That while the politicians and nobles grew fat and bloated on their fortunes, others were struggling to survive?

Though he said it all in a mocking tone, I got the distinct impression that I had touched a nerve.

"He didn't tell me anything. None of them did." I didn't want to tell him about my weird dreams apparently concerning Cybertron's history. Something told me that it would not bode well for me. So softly inhaling and exhaling, I said in a soft but succinct tone, "You took things too far, _Megatronus_."

Megatron actually looked surprised when I called him that.

"So he told you," he said haltingly, seeming to regard me in a new light.

I shook my head, drawing my legs in and placing my chin on my knees as I stared at the wall of rock in front of me. "Again no he didn't. I…just have another… _firsthand_ source."

It was a vague half-truth but hopefully he bought it.

We fell into silence after that. It wasn't uncomfortable per say, just a little stagnant. I mean, what do you say to the enemy when you can't attack them?

Still, I didn't know how long I was going to be trapped here so I might as well make the most of it. "Tell me, Megatron, why did you start the war?"

The warlord sneered at me. "Why do you care fleshling? Our war is no concern of yours."

Disregarding his tone, I settled back against the rock, attempting to get comfortable despite our current situation…and my fear. "Sweetheart, we are buried under several tons of rock with no way out until someone finds us, which may take a while, so indulge me a little why don't you? It'll help pass the time."

Though my eyes were no longer open, I could feel his gaze on me, like the mech was trying to figure me out or was looking for some ulterior motive to my request. Eventually though, the mech seemed to cave in and began to speak.

I listened closely, both to Megatron's story and keeping an ear out for anybody close-by.

Truth be told, it was quite interesting to hear about things from the Decepticon warlord's perspective. Nodding every once in a while to show I was actually listening, I found myself quietly admiring Megatron for his determination and strength. I mean it took guts to speak out when no one else had the courage to do so; it took an even greater strength of will to stay afloat against the tide of those who tried to push you down. I knew he wasn't telling me everything (probably thinking I will go and report everything to Prime), but the story he told of how he went from a nameless slave to a renowned gladiatorial champion before changing course once again and becoming a gladiator in the political arena—it was all so unique. If anything, he truly was a mech on a mission, trying to change a vision he desired into a reality.

All the while, I was slowly beginning to piece together certain snippets of dreams I remembered having in the past, gradually coming to realize that some of them had indeed been about Megatron. I'm just not sure what to think about that yet.

* * *

—Later—

Despite how sluggishly my brain was working, I knew I was slowly dying. I could just feel it. Of course, I had kind of already known it when I first realized that I was trapped, but as the air grew thinner and thinner, it just sort of seemed to occur to me. It wasn't so much a thought of 'OMG! I'm gonna die! Someone save me!' It was more like 'Oh hey, it's getting harder to breath. I must be using up all the oxygen in here. I'm slowly going to suffocate to death.'

Now truth be told, I wasn't really scared of death. When you lived on the streets for as long as I had, death became a natural part of everyday life. Friends you made could be there one day and then gone the next. Even my time as a blood fighter had taught me how fragile life was. And when you lived with a constant reminder that one wrong move could kill you, you start to just accept it. Death is just a natural part of life to me.

Still, I was somewhat grateful that I had someone with me in the end, even if it was Megatron. Sure, he didn't give a damn about my insignificant life, but at least I would not die alone. That was always something that plagued me. Living so alone as I have, never really connecting with anyone, I have always wondered if I would die alone or not.

I remember all those times on the streets, especially during the harsh winter seasons, where I would occasionally come across the body of another homeless person who had died during the night. No matter where I was or what city I was in though, I noticed that each and every one of them was alone. It was an astounding revelation. And through those experiences, I found myself wondering if that would ever be me. Would I die just like them, alone and in the cold, with no one to care or talk to? Or would there be someone there to hold my hand and say that it's alright?

It was just something that always made me wonder…

"Hey Megatron," I coughed in a low voice, body limp against the rock and eyes closed. I just felt so weak. "Thank you."

I couldn't see it, but I imagined that the huge mech seemed a little surprised by the appreciation. But before he could say anything though, a loud humming sound seemed to reverberate all around us.

"Sounds…* _cough* *cough_ *…like drilling…* _cough_ *…," I managed to say weakly. "Wonder who…it is…" I coughed some more. "Yours or…* _cough* *cough_ *...mine."

I think I kinda blacked out after that because the next thing I knew there was a great high pitched humming sound like an engine, accompanied by a whole lot of dust and a garbled crunching, grinding sound like a rock grinder or something except ten times louder. Then suddenly it stopped.

"…hat?" I managed to croak out, coughing as hearing returned to me.

"It seems you are in luck femme," I heard Megatron grumble close by.

What was he talking about?

With great effort, I managed to pry open my eyes a bit to find some dim light streaming in through the settling dust. What…? Then I saw him. Covered in dust from head to toe but obviously not severely harmed, was my brother Jack. He was alone, but I was no less thankful to see him.

I smiled. "J-Jack…"

The guy turned towards the sound of my voice; face breaking out in a smile when he saw who spoke.

"Aria!" he said, jumping down from the drill and racing towards my limp form, worry evident. "Are– are you alright?"

Despite how tired I was, I managed to roll my eyes. That was a really stupid question on his part _._

I wanted to tell him, _No. I nearly suffocated to death, and I've got bumps and bruises in just about every place on my body, including some unmentionables._ Instead however, I merely opened my mouth and said, "Aside from some wounded pride at being the one rescued, just peachy little bro."

He smiled wryly at the use of dry sarcasm but didn't say anything as he slung one of my arms over his shoulder and helped heave me up onto the drill. Where had he gotten one of those?

Climbing up next to me, I watched silently as Jack glared down at Megatron with an unreadable expression.

"I suppose helping those less fortunate would be completely out of the question," I heard Megatron say.

Jack said nothing, silence speaking for him.

"If it is the case, you might as well use your drill to finish me. I guarantee you will never have a better opportunity than right now," the mech persuaded.

Why would he say something like that?

I studied Jack's face carefully, doing my best to read his micro expression's despite how bone dead tired I was. If truth be told though, I was more than a little surprised to find that Jack was genuinely _considering_ the idea.

Why…? Then it hit me: his family. He hadn't wanted to be a part of this in the first place. However, his mother had been put in danger because of this war they had been dragged into; people he knew and cared about were in danger because of him. As he probably saw it, if he were to end Megatron, he might just actually stop this war and the people he cared about would be safe.

I had to stop him; I would not let him go down this path.

It took a lot but I used what little strength I had to reach up a hand to clasp Jack's wrist. Surprised, he looked down and met my gaze. Upon doing so however, I did my best to convey a silent message: _No_.

Jack looked uncertain, and I caught a glimpse of several different emotions passing across his features.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Megatron demanded. "Think of the glory. Seize the day. Optimus would."

And just like that, as soon as the Autobot leader's name was mentioned, the spell over Jack seemed to break.

"No, he wouldn't," the kid said darkly, looking Megatron right in the optics. "Not like this."

And with that, he turned toward the console and started up the machine, leaving Megatron to his fate, whatever that may have been. However, just before we were completely out of earshot, the Decepticon warlord imparted one last thing:

"I will be sure to share the details of our little conversation with Optimus," he jeered. "The day I rip out his spark!"

Unseen or heard by Jack, my face twisted into an ugly expression as I growled lowly, "Not if I rip out yours first, Megatron."

* * *

Somehow, despite my fear and how loud the drill was, I managed to doze a little, slipping into a light but mostly dreamless sleep. Other than to stop once and fully check over me, Jack didn't bother me, staying silent all the while as he maneuvered the drill through the network of tunnels, attempting to locate the others.

Still, no matter what state of consciousness I was in, the conversation I had had with the warlord haunted me. It had given me much to think about.

Actually, looking back on it, I realized that Megatron and I weren't so different, as unusual as that is to say.

We both came from pretty crappy backgrounds where neither of our parents really wanted us.

We both grew up too fast.

We both had had our time in the arena, forced to take up arms to survive.

We both lived by the rules of survival, knowing it was either kill or be killed.

We both had fought to make a living.

We both tried to be more honorable in our ways than those around us.

We both kept others at arm's length, knowing that putting trust in the wrong person could be fatal.

We were both feared by others.

We both had started a war.

We both sought justice.

We both saw the world for what it really was and knew its corruption and harsh reality better than others.

We both strived to change the world, even if it was through force.

The only difference between us now were the choices we had made in the end.

While Megatron had thought that justice and change would only be brought about through force, inevitably starting a war that had destroyed his home because he thought killing and slaughter was the answer, I had taken a more passive route, still fighting and basically waging war too on the criminal underground but never once taking a life.

Sure we had come from mightily similar backgrounds, but our ideals were what differentiated us.

It was like a friend had once explained to me: where you come from influences how you make your decisions.

Thanks to how many others had taught me, I knew that killing never solved anything. Megatron, however, never had anyone to teach him that lesson, having his views influenced by the already jaded views of others into thinking that 'any means necessary' was the way to go. And for that, I pitied him.

So in a way, while I doubted that we would be making each other friendship bracelets anytime soon, I felt that I could understand where Megatron was coming from a little better.

"Hey, Aria, do you hear that?" Jack suddenly asked, drawing me out of my thoughts; he had stopped drilling.

Lifting my head up, I strained my ears to hear whatever had caught Jack's attention.

What could…?

Then I heard it too. Voices.

As if he had heard my thoughts, Jack nodded in confirmation going back to the console. "They don't sound too far away, but the sound could just be echoing."

I shrugged. "Maybe, but I'm willing to take the chance that it might be one of the others."

Sharing a small smile, Jack then started up the drill, staring, like I was, straight ahead, determined to find the others and then get the hell out of this deathtrap of a mine.

* * *

We made it just in time.

Barreling through another mound of solid rock, we finally found Miko and Bulkhead…and a rather run over looking Starscream.

 _Oops, I thought it sounded like we ran over something important. Looks like it was just Starscream though. Oh well. Maybe we'll flatten him next time_.

Anyways, Bulkhead looked to be in a rather…precarious position. Part of the ceiling had collapsed and the only thing keeping the whole Jenga shebang from toppling was Bulkhead doing an imitation of the titan Atlas holding up the sky.

Holy mother of all…

In any case, as soon as the green giant saw us, he said, "Jack, Aria, get Miko out of here now!"

Looking where the bot gestured, we found an utterly pathetic sight near the Wrecker's ankles.

It was Miko, except it wasn't the same Miko I remembered entering the mine like an idiot. Skin and clothes covered with dirt, the foreign fifteen-year-old no longer looked like her usual bubbly self which was a little disturbing to say the least. In fact, her hazel eyes were wide and full of unmistakable fear and worry as she clung to Bulkhead's ankle like it was a life-line, her frame quivering ever so slightly.

All in all, Miko looked utterly terrified.

 _Huh, maybe she was finally learning_.

Thankfully, Jack managed to gather his wits about him first and immediately obeyed the green giant's order without question, hopping onto one of the treads of the device and holding his hand out to Miko.

"Come on! Come on!" he urged the girl, who hesitantly looked back at her guardian, looking as though she might cry.

"Run, Miko!" Bulkhead shouted, as he strained with all his might to keep the ceiling from collapsing on top of us.

Turning towards Jack with real tears now in her eyes, Miko slowly reached out a hand to Jack, who grabbed her wrist and pulled her up.

"We can't leave Bulkhead!" she cried, but before she could charge back over to him, I grabbed a hold of the struggling girl and pulled her close. Though we may never be friends, I understood what the girl was going through all too well. After all, I felt that way every single time I left my sister behind at my mother's house.

For a moment, as Jack pulled away and headed towards the surface, Miko struggled against my grip, desperately trying to get away. But ultimately, she stopped fighting, burying her face into my shirt and sobbing her heart out as she hugged me tightly. Truthfully, it was a little awkward for me at first as I really didn't do 'comforting'. Seriously, I barely knew the girl. How was I supposed to comfort her? Eventually though, I just settled on what I did for my sister on occasion when she had a nightmare, hugging her tightly and running a hand lightly through her dirty dyed locks, while the other rubbed slow circles into her back.

I think I may have been doing something right because slowly, her sobs lessened a bit, though that may have been my imagination. Like I said, I usually sent people home in tears; I didn't really comfort them.

"Arcee will save him, won't she?" Miko managed to hiccup, pulling away enough to look at Jack hopefully.

The raven-haired teen looked determinedly ahead. "We just need to find a way out of here before Megatron digs himself free," was all he said, earning a disapproving glare from me.

"Megatron's here, too?!" she exclaimed sounding near hysterical as I continued to hold her tightly; there is no telling what a hysterical Miko would do.

"Not helping Jack," I told him sternly.

Before anyone else could say a thing, we all heard the pound of a new set of pedes enter the tunnel. Calling a halt to the vehicle, we all looked up to see a familiar form standing before us.

* * *

—Later—

Standing before the remnants of the now-collapsed mine, the five of us all collectively breathed a sigh of relief in the light of the rising sun. Aside from the incident that permanently damaged my arm, never have I ever been more glad to see the light of day as it peeked over the horizon, seeming almost brighter than usual after that nightmare come to life.

"We could finish them here and now," Arcee finally said, breaking the silence.

"Shame we didn't bring any grenades," Bulkhead agreed pounding his fists together and no doubt thinking of Wheeljack.

I frowned at them from behind their backs.

However, it was Jack's voice and question that broke everyone out of their morbid thoughts. "Would Optimus finish them?" he asked hesitantly, walking up alongside Miko and I, no doubt wondering if he had made the right decision back in the mine.

There was silence for a moment, but I was pleased to see that the bloodthirsty light that had once been in their optics, had gone out.

 _Good_.

Arcee was the one to speak first though. "No. He probably wouldn't," she admitted, looking a little woebegone. "Not like this."

"But Optimus wouldn't rescue them, either, right?" Miko hedged, bringing up a pretty valid point for once.

What _would_ Optimus have done?

But no one had answer for her.

"Guys, let's just go home," I eventually called, deep in thought.

Everyone made sounds of agreement, though I caught Arcee shooting one last look at the pile of rubble before turning with a defeated sigh; I had no doubt she was having the similar thoughts to what Jack had earlier.

* * *

—Megatron's POV—

Making his way through the unstable halls of the abandoned operation, Megatron finally came to a cavern that held something rather intriguing.

It was Starscream. Arms raised over his head as he quavered and shook, trying to support the collapsing ceiling, the seeker looked a little worse for wear, which brightened the warlord's mood a little.

Optics landing on his huge hulking form, the traitorous mech gazed at him hopefully. "Master! You're alive! Thank the Allspark!" he cheered before noticing the unimpressed expression on the former gladiator's faceplates. "I– I did not abandon you, master," he tried. "I returned to save you!"

"Save me?" he scoffed. Please, if anyone 'saved' him, it was technically the Autobot's human. A fact of which did not go over well with him.

Probably knowing it was his last shot at survival, the seeker said, "Look into my spark, lord Megatron. My intentions were true. Please! Have mercy!"

For a moment, the large grey and purple accented mech considered the pathetic seeker before him. Normally, he would have just laughed and left the coward as he was to die a painful death. But after his conversation with Optimus' human femme and remembering his original reason's for starting the war, he wasn't so sure of himself. She had given him much to consider.

Eventually, Megatron came to a decision.

* * *

—Aria's POV, Base—

Arriving back on base, tired, dirty and beat up as I was, I barely had time to think of praying that Optimus was still out before the five of us were confronted with the towering form of a very tall and very peeved looking Prime.

And as he did so, only one word ran through my mind.

 _Fuck._

Blue optics darkened to a stormy cobalt color with in the wake of his quiet fury, the bot looked over all members of the group before his gaze at last landed on me. None of them spoke, but I could feel the pressure of his look bearing down on me as I attempted to look anywhere except at my guardian. Was it too late to go back through the ground bridge and beg for Megatron to take me with him?

As if in answer, the ground bridge portal was shut off behind us, closing with some finality to it.

"Arcee, Bulkhead, take Jack and Miko and home immediately." He didn't even ask for their reports.

That was all he said, but I could feel the looming storm bearing down on me. I'd almost take the claustrophobia over the impending tirade I was no doubt going to get soon enough.

In any case, the other four seemed to sense that now wasn't the greatest time to argue with the Prime and left pretty quickly and quietly, Jack only lingering just long enough to shoot her a piteous look before he hopped on Arcee and followed Miko and Bulkhead out of base.

 _Gee, thanks guys, leave little ol' me all alone to fend for myself why don't you. I see how it is_.

Inwardly, I cringed as Optimus took a step towards my much smaller frame, but not once did I look up. To me, in doing so would be like admitting guilt…or maybe I was just afraid of what I would see.

Still, the silence the others had left behind with their departure was almost maddening. Wasn't he going to say something? Surely he had a few choice words prepared for her. But the heavy silence between them just seemed to stretch on.

It wasn't until I started wondering if I should say something (like an apology or even an awkward greeting) that I was suddenly scooped up in a large but warm, metal servo and sent tumbling as the bot transformed around me before landing in the passenger's side seat. But that was all he did.

Finally, when I couldn't take the stifling silence anymore, I said snappishly, "Well? Aren't you going to say something?"

Still he said nothing.

Usual scowl in place in an attempt to hide how perturbed I was, I said, "If that's it, then I'm getting out."

* * *

—No One's POV—

She went to open the door but was stopped by the sound of locks clicking into place.

Aria focused back on the console. "Optimus, let me out," she said in a light tone that held a clear warning in it.

Again, he did not respond.

The scowl on her face darkened a little as she repeated the sentence in a firmer tone.

"Optimus, let me out."

Still nothing.

Deciding to try the door again in case he had unlocked it and she hadn't heard, she reached out to try again but was stopped this time by the seatbelt moving and locking her in place, preventing her from moving too far.

Trying to control her anger, she said one last time in a false, would-be calm voice, "Optimus Prime, either let me out, or I will make you."

"No."

As if that word had been the spark to ignite the flame, the young woman snapped starting to thrash wildly and struggle against the harness now binding her, which had now tightened even more in an attempt to restrain her further.

"Optimus Prime, you let me out right now!" the golden-haired girl thundered, eyes seeming to glow with her fury despite how tired she was. Oh he was so going to get it if he did not release her this instant.

"No," her guardian growled back. He had had enough.

"Let. Me. Out." Her silvery eyes were definitely blazing now as she roared looking almost crazed with her need to be freed.

" _ **NO!**_ "

The angered shout was so unexpected that Aria momentarily fell silent, staring at the radio with something almost akin to shock or maybe even fear.

In any case, the Prime seemed to realize this and stopped himself, venting deeply before speaking again in a slightly calmer tone. "No, this has gone on long enough. Until now, I have stood by and said nothing, letting you carry on doing this to yourself, even if I disapproved of it. But I realize now that that was a mistake."

He sighed dejectedly. "Aria, I have too often seen many valiant warriors, who possessed a strong drive much like yours, fall in battle because they were pushing themselves too hard and did not take the time to look after their own wellbeing. Even I myself need to take a break every once in a while because I know that no team can function effectively when one of its members is too tired to support them."

The young woman tried to argue. "But, I—"

"Aria, do you not understand?" he said, cutting her off, tone changing so that he almost sounded physically pained. "You could have lost your life today. And then how would the rest of us be left to feel?" The Prime may not have known what had exactly gone on today, but judging by the state of her clothes, it wasn't hard to figure out that things had gone sideways.

"I—" her voice cracked.

"Do you have any idea how your death would affect the others?" he finally said in something close to a whisper. "How losing you would affect me?"

And just like that, all the stress and emotional turmoil caught up with her and she broke. She didn't bawl or sob wretchedly like most people when they cried. Aria just looked towards her lap, hair falling to obscure her pale (though slightly dusty) face as crystalline tears silently rolled down her cheeks.

"I— I can't do that, Optimus," she said quietly. "I can't afford to stop."

"Then don't."

She looked up, surprised.

"Little one," he said gently. "I am not asking you to stop completely. Just merely take a short rest _**before**_ you run yourself into the ground."

Aria looked conflicted, which Optimus seemed to sense as he said still in that quiet tone, "If not for yourself, then do it for the sake of others…please, little one, get some rest. I promise I will let you join me the next time I go on a scouting mission." The seatbelt tightened slightly as if to emphasize the point, the act almost reminding the grey-eyed girl of a hug.

"I—Fine," she eventually conceded, hand going for the door handle.

"And where do you think you are going?" the Prime demanded.

The girl blinked a little confusion, saying with a note of caution in her voice, "Um…out to get my bike so I can go home."

The safety harness still did not release her. "No, you are going to stay here, where I can keep an optic on you, Aria, and make sure you get at least one full night of rest."

Almost instantaneously, Aria's usual attitude was back with its usual sarcastic snap. "Um then I'll sleep on the couch, I guess, if you ever decide to let me go that is."

"No," he refuted, and it could have been the byproduct of an overactive imagination, but it almost sounded like there was a note of smug amusement in his voice as he said, "You are going to stay with me. I have a small camper in the back of my vehicle mode where you can rest for the night."

Aria spluttered, dusty cheeks turning slightly pink as she brushed some stray hairs behind her right ear. The girl had truthfully never really been with a man before, so she certainly had never slept with a guy before. And since Optimus was technically the vehicle _and_ the bed…wasn't she basically sleeping with him?

"I– um– uh–." She cleared her throat nervously before trying again. "I– I don't want to get any dirt on your interior," Aria argued lamely.

The entire vehicle vibrated with Optimus' soft chuckles. "A little dirt never hurt anyone."

Aria opened her mouth to give a smartass retort and Optimus must have known it because he quickly with some exasperated amusement in his voice, "You know what I mean."

A small smile made its way onto her face for a brief second before it fell and she sighed out a grudging, "Fine."

The safety harness slid back in place, and the worn girl got up. Though she would loathe to admit it, Aria was kind of nervous. What if she had one of her nightmare's? What if she spoke during one of her weird dreams? What if she actually screamed or cried out this time?

She eventually found the small bed her guardian spoke of; it was simple but it looked comfortable nonetheless.

"A– are you sure?" she asked, hesitating slightly.

Optimus chuckled lowly, the sound sending shivers down her spine. "Yes, I am positive. Get some rest little one."

Hesitating only once more, Aria sat down, pausing only a little before removing her jacket and boots. She moved cautiously, like she was afraid of damaging something, though in truth it was only because of how wary she was of the cramped space. And after what she had just gone through? Well, her fear had not lessened in the slightest.

Oddly enough though, even as her head hit the pillow and stared at the ceiling no less than two-and-a-half feet away, she realized that she didn't feel the claws of fear digging into her skin. Sure, she felt a little nervous, but that was for other reasons. Why weren't the walls seeming to close in around her to suffocate her? Why weren't the shadows more menacing, seeming to laugh at her as they hid the face of her nightmares?

Inhaling the scent of leather, oil, metal, vanilla chocolate (oddly enough) and books, she failed to stop a huge yawn from escaping. She wanted to give into her body's pleas to sleep, but her worries kept her from falling off that precipice and into (hopefully) blissful unconsciousness.

 _Don't cave. Don't fall asleep…_

Like he could sense where her thoughts lay, Optimus whispered softly, "Sleep little one. Everything will be alright. You are safe."

As if that was the push she needed, Aria's eyes closed, all tension leaving her frame, and breathing lowing and evening out as she took a swan dive into dreamland, feeling more at ease than she had ever felt in a long while.

But just before she did, one last murmur passed her lips, one so faint, no one heard it: "I believe you…my _Sangroyal_ …"

* * *

Finally! Done!

And isn't that cute too? Aria finally gave Optimus a nickname. Kudos to anyone who can figure out where that nickname is from.

Well...hopefully no one seemed too OOC, but it was just kinda the way it went. I know some of you wanted me to go more into the Ironhide situation but that just isn't the way this chapter worked out. Hopefully, I should be able to get on that in the next chapter or so.

So for those of you who are wondering what Aria meant by being agnostic, that is Aria's (and mine) religious preference. Agnosticism is basically where you do not believe in the god (or gods) of other religions today (as those religions may contradict themselves them too often), but are still open to the idea that there is a higher power out there. I am sorry if this fact insults some of you, and I completely understand if you do not want to read about a character like that. But you folks will have to understand that I never really grew up with that sort of religious stuff, so I don't understand. Yes, I try to keep my mind open but I see any type of deity as a source of hope and a scapegoat. That's just my opinion; none of you have to agree or disagree with me. Anyways, back to Aria, I know back in other chapters Aria was teasing Burke about his religion but it was merely that, teasing. I hope that clarified things.

Review, favorite, follow please! Remember 5-Review Policy is in effect and have a lovely Spring Break.


	22. Storm's a Comin'

Welcome back you lot! You miss me? Anyways, I'd just like to say that I'm sorry for the long absence. I had to take a break because I needed to make sure I had all the necessary credits to graduate and I was also having a bit of trouble writing this and the next chapter. Trust me, you have no idea how bad I feel because of this.

In any case, thank you to all who reviewed, favorited, and followed. You guys are great. And a special shout-out goes to **BarrelRacer1205** , **Guest (1)** , **X Valkyrie Prime X** , **Cinematronix** , **bajy** , **Apex** , **WolfAssassin369** , **Sfrizz5959** , **Aloris2.0 the great** , **Geekgirl7567** , **Cheese** , **gothiccross017** , **Biddy** , and **No Account Boo**. You guys are awesome! And congrats to _**Apex**_ for being my 100th reviewer!

Also, on a happier note: I graduated on the 23rd! Hell yeah!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime or any other recognizable source in this entire story or chapter. Now on with the show!

* * *

 **Chapter 22: Storm's a Comin'**

"Prime!"

Sighing, I leaned back against my guardian's neckcables.

"And just when I was starting to enjoy the quiet," I mumbled, eliciting an exasperated glance from my guardian though his optics held an amused light nonetheless.

Careful as he usually was not to jostle me, Optimus stepped forward to 'greet' the obviously peeved man. What had crawled up the man's ass this time and died?

"Agent Fowler—" he began slowly, only to be interrupted by the man on the monitors.

"Prime, when were you gonna tell me that a new bot had joined up?" Fowler demanded.

Everyone in the room seemed to stop, not even bothering to hide that they were all following the conversation closely. Of course, I was too, but at least I could hide it better as I drew in my sketchbook, monitoring my guardian's expression out of the corner of my eye.

"Agent Fowler, I am afraid I do not know of what you are referring to," he frowned, metal brows dipping to form a V-shape.

"Well I just got a call a couple hours ago about a giant alien space pod being found just outside of Nevada," Fowler growled. "And let me tell you, it was not fun trying to explain to my superiors why it was found by a civilian first."

I paused, slowly lowering my pencil as I comprehended what had been said.

It couldn't be. Could it?

One eye on the screen and two ears on the agent, I watched as the government representative pushed a button and caused another window to pop up on the monitor. Much to my very well disguised surprise, the image that cropped up showed a familiar crash site.

 _Whoa dolly. It is that pain in the ass' pod._

"From the looks of it when it was discovered," Fowler went on with his presentation, "the pod had been there awhile, and whoever was in it was long gone." The government agent pushed something else and the image changed to show tire tracks and footprints. "The odd thing about the scene though is that we found tire tracks at the scene alongside the prints of a Cybertronian and a human. Someone who was at the scene long before it got called in."

Arcee stepped forward. "Fowler, are you sure it wasn't just one of the civilians who found it?" she said skeptically.

Shaking his head, Fowler pressed another button and once again we were assaulted by the blown-up features of a grumpy government agent. "No, none of them could have even matched the size of the shoe print we found there, including extended family and friends. Plus, none of them even had access to either a crane or a semi-truck with a trailer. Both of which's tracks were also found at the scene.

"That should be impossible, right?" Bulkhead tried. "We would have detected a space craft entering Earth's atmosphere."

"Not unless they were cloaked or all the pod's systems were down," Ratchet argued. "Then they would have just looked like space debris or not have even shown up on our sensors."

I listened as Fowler growled lowly over the speaker, "Well, if you haven't added to your ranks, then I'm guessing that the Con's got a new addition to theirs."

Turning, I silently noted how Optimus once again looked like he was shouldering one too many burdens. Immediately, I felt bad because I was technically the cause of his new level of unneeded stress.

"Hey, buck up would ya, Sangroyal. For all we know, it could actually be a really lost Autobot who just had the unfortunate luck to crash-land here on Earth with absolutely no way to contact you guys."

Ratchet scoffed at me. "Their signal would have shown up on our scanners."

"But there are ways to conceal it correct?" I pushed, smirking shrewishly when the bot just scowled at me but did not respond. _God, sometimes I just really love being a smartass_.

Of course, Optimus had to go and be all Primely and say, "We cannot know any of this for certain. So whether it is a stray ally or a new foe, for now we must remain vigilant at all times."

In the silence that followed my guardian's words, I managed to look around at everyone else's faces and couldn't help but smile internally upon seeing the determination written clearly across each any every face, bot and human.

They really were loyal to him. And I knew that each and every one of them would willingly lay down their lives for my Prime. That fact in itself was both astounding and invigorating as such bonds became rarer and rarer nowadays. It's part of why I donned the mask of the Dark Phoenix: to protect and preserve special bonds such as those.

As if a shotgun had just gone off in a library-like setting, everyone besides Optimus and myself, jumped when my phone suddenly started playing the theme for Dracula. Nonplussed by all the exasperated looks I was receiving, I pulled the little device out. Brows furrowing in confusion, I blinked a couple times when checked the caller-ID, unsure if I was seeing this right. Oddly enough, I didn't recognize the number or the caller. Only the area code seemed familiar.

 **New Orleans, Louisiana**

 **(504) 223-6656**

My lips turned slightly downward in a frown.

"Sorry, guys," I found myself saying absentmindedly, closing my sketchbook completely and jumping from Optimus' shoulder to a nearby catwalk. "I gotta take this."

Then, flipping open the device, I answered.

"Yello?"

* * *

—Optimus' POV—

While the others turned back to their previous activities, Optimus secretly monitored his charges' phone conversation though he could only hear one side of it.

"Yello?"

A pause.

"Yes, this is her."

There was a long pause, during which Aria seemed to become more pale and tense with each passing second.

"What? Are you sure?" she demanded, face showing upmost seriousness. Whatever it was that was being discussed, Optimus didn't like how her eyes just seemed to turn to steel.

Unseen to the caller, Aria shook her head stubbornly though she seemed a little shaken. "No, no, no. I understand completely. I'll start heading over now. I–" For some reason, she briefly glanced in his direction, cementing the idea that she was likely up to something he probably wouldn't like. "–I need to see this myself." And with that, she hung up, sighing tiredly and looking as if the weight of the world had just been dumped on her shoulders.

Seeing his charge in such a state, a tendril of worry made its way to his spark, though he did his best not to show it.

Examining her features, Optimus tried to get a read on her emotions only to find that aside from looking a little worn and stressed, all other emotions had been neatly cleared away. Meaning, that either whatever had been discussed during that phone call was not of great importance, or his charge was purposefully trying to play it off as no big deal. Knowing her, it was more than likely the latter, though he sincerely hoped he was wrong.

Nonetheless, he waited patiently as she rubbed her face blearily before making her way over to him, looking as if she was going to drop an explosive on him. Definitely not a good sign.

"Optimus," she called out a little shakily, finally looking up at him.

Was it just his imagination or were her eyes glistening just ever so slightly?

"I-I need to go home," she said, voice sounding a little strangled. "There– I– They–" She swallowed with evident difficulty before trying again. "Something came up, and I need to leave town ASAP."

Optimus wanted to ask but refrained from doing so when Aria merely shook her head in response to his silent question. Whatever had happened, now was not the time.

Knowing there was only one thing left that he could do, Optimus transformed down into his vehicle form, passenger side door popping open in invitation. Much to his relief (and slight pleasure), the girl quickly obliged, scampering in without another word.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

As soon as my feet hit the pavement outside my shop, I was off and moving, shouting a quick goodbye to Optimus before disappearing inside the organized chaos I called a mechanics shop. Nearly tripping over some stray parts, I danced up the stairs two at a time to get to the second floor. A couple seconds after blowing into my room like a mini dust devil, I was halfway through chucking a couple more things into my go-bag when something occurred to me. So tossing my handgun and a couple extra mags of ammo into the black sports bag along with a few more clothes, I was already sliding down the handrail before the thing was completely zipped closed.

If Ironhide was asleep before I barged into the second warehouse, he certainly wasn't when I did.

"What the f—"

"Ironhide, I have to go out on a trip for a couple days," I explained hurriedly, not even looking at the large mech as I made a beeline for my makeshift work area to grab a couple more things. "I've left you enough Energon that should get you through the week. Can I trust you to not get into trouble for that span of time?"

"Frag that femme, I'm going with you."

"Excuse me?" I said, finally stopping all movement to look up at him. I didn't know it, but there was a harsh, steely light in my eyes that was more than a little unnerving. "I don't think I heard you right."

The black-colored mech crossed his arms, a stern expression on his face. "I said I'm coming with you."

My face morphed into a scowl. "Uh, Ironhide, if you haven't noticed, you're a giant twenty-two-foot-tall metal alien, which is not exactly subtle," I snapped, not really caring if he took offense to my tone. "So unless you have somehow managed to magically acquire a vehicle mode…"

I stopped short when the bot bent down a little and began to transform until he was a large 4x4 GMC Topkick pick-up truck. Gaping like an idiot, I managed to say, "Since when did you get an alt-mode?"

Then something occurred to me. I had worked on the very same vehicle not too long ago. "Wait have you been watching me?" I glanced back at some of the windows of the warehouse which were the perfect height for an alien robot to peek through and spy on me as I worked. "What the hell, 'hide? What the literal effing hell?"

I made an irritated sound, shaking my head and throwing my hands up in exasperation. "You're an asshole, you know that, 'hide?"

I shook my head again. "You know what, never mind. I don't have time for this. If you want to tag along, then go right ahead. I won't stop you. Just don't come cryin' to me when things get hairy," I said hurriedly, already starting to jog away. "Just be ready to go in five minutes."

* * *

—Two Days Later, The Big Easy—

Watching as buildings with pastel hues, wrought iron balconies, and cobblestone streets passed by outside, I felt…well, actually I didn't know how to feel.

Welcome to the Big Easy. Full of history, culture, music and unique foods, this riverside city is definitely like no other. Most people, when they hear the name New Orleans, they immediately think of drunken parties, cheap plastic bead necklaces, and Mardi Gras. What they don't realize though is that the Mardi Gras carnival celebrations are only just a small fraction of the true allure of the Big Easy.

Ever since the 1690's, this historic place has become a melting pot for those of Cajun, Creole, French, American, Caribbean and Spanish descent. All in all, it's unlike any other city I've been to.

"Alright, Squishy, so you wanna tell me what we're doing here?" Ironhide finally grumbled, his voice issuing from the radio like it did with all the Autobot's, as he maneuvered through the slightly cramped streets. "Or where I'm even going?"

Thankfully, for the most part, Ironhide and I had managed to not kill each other on the trip over here, (though there had been a few close calls). Nor did we have any run-ins with Cybertronian's, Autobot or Decepticon, though he explained to me that that had been thanks to a device that some inventor he knew had built to conceal his presence.

In any case though, my stony expression morphed into a scowl. "There is no 'we' in this Ironhide. You are just tagging along because I said you could—"

"Like you could stop me, squishy," he scoffed, but I kept steamrollering on.

"—But that don't think for one second that this makes us partners or something. I've got work to do, and I expect you to keep quiet and stay out of my way while I'm working."

I'm not sure what it was, but there must have been something in my tone of voice or facial expression that kept Ironhide from retorting because he didn't make a peep after that.

Silence reigned, only broken once when I quietly asked him to pull over. The hushed tone must have surprised the bot further because he obeyed without question.

When I went to get out though, he spluttered in surprise, apparently noticing what place we were parked right outside of. "Wait, a coroner's office? What the frag are we doing here? Squishy, what the Pit is going on?"

I sighed, hand still resting on the door handle. I guess I might as well indulge him. "The other day, I got a call from the New Orleans city police station saying that they found a body that had my name and number in his wallet." I swallowed back the lump in my throat. "They…they asked me to come and see if I could ID the body."

I shook my head, grip tightening on the handle in an attempt to hold back the overwhelming tidal wave of emotions set to crash down upon me. Deciding it was best to leave it at that, I gathered what courage I had and exited Ironhide's vehicle mode.

* * *

Stepping up to the front desk, I waited for the receptionist to notice me, resorting to clearing my throat loudly five minutes later when she just continued to shuffle papers.

"Ahem."

Blinking a couple times, the bespectacled woman, looked up at me in slight surprise. "Oh, sorry, I didn't see you there. Can I help you sweetheart?"

Mentally, I rolled my eyes at how she treated me because of my age. It didn't happen very often, but once in a while, some ditz would mistake me for 'a child'. This lady was a prime example, especially considering how she ignored how I held myself and called me 'sweetheart'. Ugh, for some reason, that nickname always made me think of slobbery grandma kisses.

Anyways, mostly ignoring her idiotic assumption, I said in a brusque but politely professional tone, "Yes, ma'am, I got a call the other day from a one Doctor Roberts. Is she in?"

In a thoughtful pose, the woman tapped a manicured nail against her chin, humming a little, which did nothing for my mounting impatience. "Hmmm. Let me see. I think so. I can call her up if you like Miss…?"

"No need, Nancy," a new voice cut in. Looking up, I found myself gazing at a woman who highly resembled the character from the anime Bleach, Nanao Ise. (Don't give me that look; you'd be surprised at what my sister Izzy can get me to watch at times whenever we hang out). Dark grey eyes turned on me, taking in my features and probably noting the slight stiffness in my stance. "You must be Miss Aria Slade-Cage I assume."

I nodded stiffly, wanting more than anything to get this over with, but hoping beyond hope that I was dead wrong. No pun intended.

"Come with me," was all she said as she turned on her heel and marched further into the facility.

Glad to finally be making some headway, I quickly followed her, listening to the soft plod of my boots and the sharp _click_ of the Doctor's heels on the tile floor. The facility itself looked how any coroner's office/lab would look: polished white tile, whitewashed walls, and the combined odor of many different laboratory smells, some of which were not too pleasant but that was a given considering that this is where they keep dead people.

"I assume you know what happened to the victim?" Doctor Roberts suddenly asked.

"Only the bare details like they are dead and a card with my name was found on them," I answered truthfully. "That was why I called in: to identify the victim if possible."

She nodded but said nothing more as we finally entered a room with a single blanket-covered body lying on a metal table in the middle of it. There was even a single white and annoyingly bright light shining down on the covered face of the victim, just like in all those crime shows.

As the door shut behind me, all I could do was stop a couple feet from the door while the coroner quickly made her way over to the body, ready to show whose face lay behind the thin, blue material.

This was it. I was finally going to see if this was who I thought it was or not. I won't even deny the fact that I felt a surge of trepidation go through me.

Forcibly, I made my legs move until I was standing at the other side of the metal table, my face revealing nothing.

Then the next thing I knew, she was pulling back the blue cloth-like material, and I was staring at the uncharacteristically pale features of an old friend.

"Ma'am, do you recognize this man?" the woman prodded, pulling me out of my shocked stupor.

With a jolt, I stumbled back a little until I was leaning against the table behind me.

"Azriel," I choked out in a whisper. "His name is…was, Azriel Slade."

Faintly, I registered the dark-haired woman writing down something on her little clipboard, as I continued to list off generic info for her to jot down. The last one however, caused my knuckles to turn pure white.

"Your relation to the victim?"

"Just a…a friend."

She scribbled some more on her clipboard.

"Can I..." I swallowed. "Can I get a moment alone with him? Please?"

The woman looked at me from over her glasses, sharp eagle-like eyes surveying me. However, she eventually just sighed, lowering her clipboard slightly. "Very well. But absolutely no touching anything. We still need him for an active investigation to determine who or what caused this to him." She made towards the door telling me she would be back in five minutes before closing it behind her.

For a moment, all I could do was stare in wide-eyed shock at the dead man laying before me. He was so uncharacteristically pale and quiet, completely different compared to the rosy-cheeked, flamboyant, bear of a man who always spoke with a thick Russian accent but was amazingly gentle despite his size.

Inhaling a shaky breath, I could feel my eyes watering with the need to break down and start crying. But I didn't let a single tear fall. There would be time for that later, _after_ I found out what had killed him.

Hands shaking ever so slightly, I quietly peeled back the blue covering and had to covering my mouth. Whether it was to repress the urge to gasp or just plain throw up, either action was quite likely in this scenario because in the middle of the large Russian's stomach was a large, gaping hole the size of a hand-sized dinner plate. But that wasn't the worst of it. No, it was the fact that the gaping fissure had obviously been cut out intentionally with precise burn marks around the edges that were made in an attempt to cauterize the incisions and stop the bleeding. Moreover, though, it looked vaguely familiar, and it wasn't hard to figure out why; my bandaged arm started to ache terribly.

Hearing the doorknob jiggle, I quickly, covered the dark-haired man back up the way the coroner had left him, stepping away just as she barged back in.

From there, I was left to answer any questions the doc had for me about Azriel though I was only going through the motions like someone's pet zombie, speaking only when spoken to and always in that same, haunted tone that was devoid of emotion. Honestly, I think Doctor Roberts would have asked me more but probably took pity on me, ending it early and only requesting that I stayed nearby for the next couple days or so, so that the police could ask me some questions later.

Even Ironhide must have gotten the silent memo to leave me alone because he said nothing as I climbed back into his V-mode. He was completely silent, which I probably appreciated though I was too caught up in my silent grief to acknowledge it. The only thing he did was ask me where we were going next, not so much as complaining that I was being bossy when directed him to one of the hotel's in the French Quarter.

That was all that was said between us for a good long while. The only other time he heard me speak after that was when I managed to break free from the raging storm inside of me. Eyes flashing dangerously with renewed vigor, full of steel and ice, the dangerous growl that left my lips was soft but nonetheless audible, promising a special kind of hell with each syllable.

"Ironhide, we're gonna find this guy. We're gonna find this sonovabitch and we're gonna make him pay."

* * *

For the rest of the quiet ride, I brooded in my seat, hunched over slightly, staring blankly at my interlocked fingers as I replayed my memories of Azriel, though my mind kept straying back to that haunting image of him from the morgue.

Not many people knew this, but Azriel Slade had actually been the one who taught me how to wield my batons. In fact, along with basic first aid, he had taught me how to wield just about any type of weapon you could think of, from slingshot to sword to Dragunov sniper rifle. Basically, you name it, and he taught me how to hold it, take it apart, repair, clean, and use it.

In a way, if Raoul had been my father, Azriel had been my boisterous, Russian uncle, who was also conveniently ex-military. He was actually the first person to take me in a couple months after I had initially run away from home. I mean, he and my other teacher, an Aussie named Sarakiel Cage, were both basically homeless like me, but they took me in under their wings and taught me the ropes of living on the streets.

Truth be told, I owe a lot to both of them, especially Azriel, since without him, I probably would not be alive today.

—Flashback—

It had only been a couple months since I had left my mother's home in Arizona, and I had managed to put several state borders between us in that amount of time. Also in that amount of time, I had become an accomplished stowaway and pickpocket, never once getting noticed by anyone. I wasn't proud of my new skillset, but it was a necessity for my new choice of lifestyle.

Anyways, none of that really mattered since, as of right now, I was laying in some random NYC alley, slowly bleeding to death as my tormentor's stood, leering from above me.

"This is what you get half-pint for goin' onta Phantom Lords' territory past curfew," the ringleader laughed loudly, giving my small frame an extra kick for good measure.

Weakly, I groaned. Despite all my above average intelligence (at least for my age), I hadn't really stopped to consider what part of town I was in, nor the dangers of what really goes bump in the night here in New York. I guess at the time I had just been too tired and half-starved to care when I had settled in that alley on that fateful night. Unfortunately, that had proved to be a big mistake on my part.

"Yo B-man, whadda we gunna do with this 'ere sap?" I heard one of the others ask in this deep tone that partially reminded me of a gorilla.

B-man, the ringleader with the gold front tooth, grinned roguishly. "Don't care, have fun with her boys."

The rest cheered as he turned back to me and left with a lackadaisical wave of his hand. Soon enough though, the rest of the pack closed in.

Immediately, fear coiled its icy tendrils around me, creating a sinking pit in my stomach. Even back then, I was at least intelligent to understand that what was going to happen to me would not be pleasant at all.

However, before they could so much as lay another finger on me, a new voice rang out in the dark, accompanied by a huge shadow that cast the rest of us into darkness.

"I zink zat is quite enough," came a heavily accented man's voice from the end of the alley, causing all present to freeze. Craning my neck slightly to the left, I could only make out the _huge_ form of man in the dark. And I do not just mean huge when compared to me, I meant that he towered at least a full head over even the tallest gang member and was at least twice as beefy.

Watching as he stepped further into the alley, I managed to make out large beetle-black eyes, a head of thick black hair, and a goatee. "If you boys vould kindly step avay frrrom little miss—"

"Oi! And just who do you think you are?!" the ringleader bravely—or stupidly—interrupted the giant, storming over until he was right in the man's face. "This is the Phantom Lords territory! You better scram buddy before we teach you—"

The guy immediately, stopped when the giant suddenly clamped a large hand around the young man's throat, struggling to get free. But the only thing that escaped him was a strangled squeaking sound like as if someone had sat on a rat or something.

"Little boys should know when to keep zeirrr mouths shut," the goliath growled like a bear. "Now step avay frrrom girrrl orrr else." Then he tossed the guy aside like he was a ragdoll and faced the rest of them daringly, posture screaming danger for those who opposed him. "I vill not ask again."

After that, I think I started to lose consciousness as I only caught snippets of the following fight until finally I found myself cradled in the strong, warm grip of the goliath.

Quietly, I whimpered, feeling him accidentally press against some of my injuries.

"Hush, _myshka_ , you arrre safe now. I vill not hurrrt you," was the last think I heard him whisper before I completely passed out. (little mouse).

—Flashback End—

* * *

—Later—

Stepping into the darkened room of my new hotel room in the French Quarter, I soon found that I was not alone as I went to switch on the light.

"Realists don't fear the results of their study," a familiar voice said, quoting Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

The corner of my lips twitched upwards in a wan smirk. I should have known that someone would turn up sooner or later.

Setting my stuff on the bed before plopping down beside it with a slight bounce, I said, "Then why don't you find me more favorable results, Dostoyevsky?"

Moz raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, I hit up everyone I could find on both the MECH issue and the other issue too."

I sighed tiredly, clasping my hands together as I slouched a little in my seat. "What are you doing here Moz?"

For a moment, the balding man before me stayed silent, eyeing me cautiously, as if estimating how much he should say. Eventually though, he spoke. "I heard through the grapevine about what happened to Azriel; I wanted to see how you were holding up."

I didn't respond.

For an entire minute, neither of us said a thing, but Moz, apparently deciding to take the plunge, asked in a subdued voice, "It was _him_ wasn't it?"

Stiffly, I nodded, though I could feel my eyes becoming a little glassy. Swallowing with some difficulty, I did my best to keep my voice bereft of any emotion as I said, "Yeah, it was _him_." Okay so I sounded a little rougher than usual but it was the best I could manage under the circumstances. "He dissected Azriel like he was some frog in biology class, and then left him to die. _Alone_." At this point, my knuckles had turned white and I was having a lot of trouble keeping my voice even as I continued to speak. "And from what the coroner told me, Azriel was still alive and completely aware of what was going on while that bastard cut him open." I didn't bother to hide the tone of disgust in my otherwise hoarse voice.

"You sure?"

I looked up to meet Mozzie's gaze, a firm scowl in place and eyes blazing. Was it just me or did the entire room suddenly take on a reddish hue? "Oh I'm sure Moz. And now he's gone after one of my friends. Let me tell you, when find this bastard, I'm gonna make him pay. _No one_ gets away with killing my friends and lives to tell about it." My tone was almost growling now. "Especially if it's the same damn bastard who dissected me like I was _some fucking science experiment_."

I could practically hear Mozzie gulping nervously at the sound of _the tone_. He, as well as anyone else who knew me well enough, knew that that particular tone of voice never boded well for any individual party it was aimed at. Still, I had to hand it to him for not going completely mute like most others did when they heard _the tone_. In fact, Moz cleared his throat and said, "Good, and I'm going to help you."

I almost smiled at him for that. Moz, for all his anti-government speechifying and conman-like habits, truly had a heart of gold in regards to those he was loyal to. Still, I unfortunately was going to have to put my foot down on this one.

"No Mozzie," I said, shaking my head. "You're not."

Moz opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off. "I need you to go back to New York and continue digging up any and all that you can on MECH and the… _other_ issue."

"But, I—"

"Furthermore," I steamrollered on, "there is a killer on the loose here in New Orleans who may just very well be going after people I know. I am not risking your life just to get even with this guy." I looked my friend straight in the eyes. "If he wants me, then he'll get me. Nothing more, nothing less. But I am not going to let him put the body of another friend in the morgue."

"So you're just going to go against this guy all on your own?!" Mozzie exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. "Aria, that's—"

"—Completely necessary to ensure that the lives of all my friends are preserved," I ground out, also standing now. "'No sacrifice, no victory' Moz. If risking my own life is what it takes, then so be it."

"You die then Isabella loses a sister!" my friend retorted. "Do you really want to just leave her there with someone like your mother?!"

My fists clenched, but I forcibly took a deep breath and said with surprising calmness, "I've already made arrangements for Izzy to be moved to a safer location in the event of my death. She will be just fine without someone like me in her life." She didn't need a psychologically invalid sister who had basically either broken multiple laws or toed several fine lines throughout her entire fucked up existence just to get what she wanted.

And just like that, the angry tension in the air seemed to dissipate, replaced only with a sort of morbid silence.

"'The devil whispered in my ear "You're not strong enough to withstand the storm"'," Moz eventually started to quote, smiling sadly at me.

I returned the melancholy expression, finishing the quote easily. "'Today I whispered in the devil's ear "I am the storm".'"

"I know I can't stop the Dark Phoenix when she is on a mission," Moz began, "so all I ask is that you look after yourself."

"I will, Moz. You know I'm good like that."

"Then I leave tomorrow," my dear friend declared with a little more cheer, before pulling from his bag an unopened bottle of French Sauternes, two empty wine glasses, and some Chinese takeout. "Tonight we feast."

Somehow, I managed a small smile.

* * *

And that is a wrap for today!

Okay, so I've got a big question for you all. It was my idea that Aria's and Optimus' romance will truly kick off after the Orion Pax episodes. But what I am having trouble with is deciding who is gonna realize first that they are falling for the other. So, I want you guys as my reviewers to answer me this: Who is gonna realize that they have fallen in love first? Aria or Optimus? You guys don't have to answer if you don't want to, but I would appreciate any of your feedback. Just leave a comment in your review or PM me your answer if you want. I don't need a big long old essay as to why it should be either one of them, but if you guys could at least just give me a name, that would be nice. Of course, if you do try to argue your point and make a valid enough argument, your vote will count as two.

Also, please don't forget to check out my new Poll. It's been up there for a couple weeks but no one has made a single vote. It's kinda important, and I need at least ten votes for this to work out right. If you aren't a member but want to vote the question is: "From the cartoon Transformers: Robots in Disguise, how old do you think Russel 'Rusty' Clay is?" I've listed the options ranging from 6–12 years of age, but I really need to know. I'm useless when it comes to judging people's age by appearance, so if you folks could help me out, your efforts would be greatly appreciated. If any of you don't have an account, just add it to your review. Please and thank you.

Remember that the 5 Review Policy is in effect.

Have a wonderful rest of your day!


	23. Bad Moon Rising

Hey guys! Guess who is back from her vacation?! Yep this girl! Four days in Cali and boy were they a doozy. I was seriously wiped out. **I** **still am**.

Anyways, thank you to all who reviewed, favorited and followed. I would send you a slice of Strawberry Torte but…well you know. Still, I would like to give a shout out to **BarrelRacer1205** , **Apex** , **Arkinstone** , **X Valkyrie Prime X** , **Cinematronix** , **bajy** , **CLM-FFN** , **Guest (1)** , **Estela prime** , **NoAcount Boo** , **CyberNinjaKat** , **Ma-ki Ji-ez** , **The Whispering Sage** , **AoBlick** , **Sfrizz5959** , and **Cheese**. Two words: You Rock!

On another note, writing this chapter and the one after this was really wearing down on me so I ask you guys to please point out any cultural or script mistakes I make with certain characters. I do not wish to insult anyone's culture in any way so please just throw me a bone okay?

Also, did anyone happen to notice the title?

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime or any other recognizable sources like Burn Notice or White Collar.

* * *

 **Chapter 23: Bad Moon Rising**

—Next Morning—

Just when things couldn't seem to get any more complicated, it seems life likes throwing that proverbial monkey wrench in my life.

"Moz," I called the next morning, picking up the picture postcard that had been stuck under the door to my room.

"Ah. Your anonymous chess opponent again," Moz said upon seeing the note. Then he noticed my expression. "Why aren't you more curious about who's sending them?"

"Maybe I like the mystery," I remarked, sitting back down and pulling up an internet browser on my phone.

"Your mentor is dead. You have no idea where to find the one guy who did that to him. One could say there's enough mystery in your life," he said, being ever the right little ray of sunshine that he was. Still, he couldn't resist a good mystery either. "Where's the postmark from on this one?"

"There isn't one."

Moz seemed as surprised as I was. "There isn't one? As in someone hand-delivered this card to your door?"

I flipped the image covered note over a couple times. "This is odd. The other cards just had general locations depicted on them. The new one has a picture of that one fancy Chinese restaurant near New Orleans' City Park, 'round noontime. I believe it is called Red Moon Sun." I shrugged handing the missive over. "A good mystery makes life interesting I guess."

"I find that rather ironic; you know the Chinese curse," Moz interjected, looking it over like I had. "'May you live in interesting times'."

"You know that's the first of two curses," I couldn't help but remark.

"What's the other one?"

I smirked. "'May you find what you're looking for'." Mozzie seemed a little amused by that too. "What's the move?"

He glanced at the card in his hand again. "Uh, knight to D-7."

"Knight to D-7." I used the little chess program to plug in the chess moves I already had. Then when I looked at the whole image, I blinked a couple times in surprise.

"You've done this move before, haven't you?" Moz surmised, leaning in closer when he noticed my expression.

"Moz, I know who I'm playing," I said when realization dawned. The man looked at me curiously. "Lusio. This was our last game."

"Lusio? As in Drake Lusio?" Moz said sounding both surprised and a little unnerved. "Looks like he's in New Orleans. Who won?"

I shook my head, feeling a tendril of anger coil in my stomach almost in preparation. "I don't know. We never finished playing."

* * *

—Later—

Despite my reluctance to even face Drake Lusio, I later found myself being dropped off before the restaurant called Red Moon Sun. It was rather pretty on the outside with hanging orange lanterns yet to be lit and a red-and-gold paint job that really made it stand out. It was noontime, just like in the picture, and I knew that smarmy bastard Lusio was no doubt waiting inside for me.

So taking a deep breath, I entered only to be greeted by a small tiled lobby with a single reception-like desk in the middle and thick red chiffon curtains surrounding the entire area, blocking my view of where the other customers were probably dining. Altogether, it was very fancy and no doubt extremely expensive.

Walking up to the desk, which I noted had a marble countertop, I plastered on a false smile and said to the neatly dressed female tenant, "Hi, I am here to see Drake Lusio. Is he here yet?"

When she just looked at me in confusion, I sighed and tried again, repeating the question but this time in perfect mandarin no less.

She shook her head. " _Duìbùqǐ. Zhège míngzì lǐ méiyǒu rén._ " (I am sorry. There is no one here by that name).

This time it was my turn to look confused. Maybe I was wrong? I paused. Or maybe…? That damn narcissistic bastard. _Of course_ he would.

" _Qīng lóng. Wǒ zài zhèlǐ kàn dào lóng_ ," I amended, watching as the Asian woman's eyes widened ever so minutely. (The Light Dragon. I am here to see the Dragon)

" _Shéi zài wèn?_ " (Who is asking?)

" _Hēi'àn de fènghuáng_." (The Dark Phoenix).

She arched a single, fine brow. " _Jiàndìng?_ " (Identification?)

With a sigh, I shrugged off my leather jacket, partially glad I had chosen to wear a backless shirt as I pulled my long braid out of the way, and turned around, allowing the woman to see the large tattoo stretched out across my upper back.

Oriental eyes narrowed. Leaning in slightly, the woman scrutinized every detail of the mark, taking in the fiery bird with its tail wrapped around a wicked-looking sword that had a ruby set into its hilt. With its flaming feathered wings outstretched and head turned to the left to show a single pure gold eye, the mythical bird seemed to be heralding/welcoming the starry sky above it and the thin, waning moon it held. Eventually, the hostess looked back up, a new light seeming to flicker behind those dark eyes of hers as she bowed her head slightly in respect to me.

" _Huānyíng nǐ, Fènghuáng. Wǒmen yīzhí qídàizhuó nǐ_ ," she then said, rather mysteriously if you ask me, as she grabbed a menu and held open the red curtain on her left. " _Qǐng gēn wǒ lái. Lóng zài zhèlǐ děngzhe nǐ._ " (Welcome, Phoenix. We have been expecting you.) (Follow me please. The Dragon awaits you through here.)

Despite her more than a little mysterious words, I followed her after a small moment of hesitation, keeping a careful eye on my surroundings.

Anyways, I had indeed been right about the curtain hiding all the customers from view. In fact, it still obscured a lot of them considering that each table had its own little privacy curtain surrounding it. If I had to hazard a guess though, I believe that the more money you pay, the more privacy and better service you get here as I only saw men in business suits hidden behind them. That was only further proven when we stopped at an actual room on the second floor that led to a balcony with a table that only had one man sitting at it.

"Aria," the hazel-eyed man greets enthusiastically with a wide-toothed smile that only I knew was false.

The brunette man made to get up, pulling out a seat in no doubt would have been a gentlemanly manner, but I retained my cold veneer, ignoring the proffered chair and walked right around him to sit in the seat directly across where he had originally been sitting. Admittedly, I took more than a little pleasure in the way his smile faltered slightly due to my actions. I did not trust this man one bit; his motives had motives; and whatever he had cooked up always ended up with him getting the spoils and everyone else taking the blame for his actions.

"Oh, come on Aria, you are not still mad about last time are you?" he sighed, sitting back down and giving me his best 'I'm an innocent little angel look'.

I didn't buy it for one second, only responding with an even harsher glare and a clipped 'yes'. Don't ask; what happened in Rio stays in Rio.

He heaved a large, put-upon sigh. "Honestly, Aria, darling, you're going to have to get over that one of these days. I mean –"

"Cut the crap, Lusio," I butted in, not having the patience to deal with his theatrics at the moment. "What the hell do you want from me?"

"Who says I want anything from you, Aria? Maybe I just feel like treating you to a meal or something."

This time I did roll my eyes, letting out a cold, mocking laugh. " _Please_ , don't make me vomit. There isn't a single day in your life where you've ever done something out of the 'goodness' of your heart. With you, there is always an ulterior motive, always something you want from others." Sneer back in place, I said with a slight warning to my tone, "Now spit it out. Otherwise, I will walk right back out that door now."

For a moment, there was nothing but tense silence between us. Lusio, to his credit, did not once cringe at the look on my face, though I was pretty sure I did see him shift a little uncomfortably, but that was it. Finally, though, he sighed quietly before saying, "Fine. I've got a proposition for you, Aria, if you are willing to listen."

Mentally, I rolled my eyes. That bastard was just so predictable at times.

"A favor for a favor if you know what I mean."

A derisive snort escaped me. "What? You want me to pretend to be your date tonight or something because none of the girls here are stupid enough for you? Sorry, no deal. I actively try to avoid dating total sleaze-balls, pretend or otherwise."

"I've got information about a certain someone that I know you've been hunting for several years," he interjects calmly, face actually contorted into a rather serious expression as I fell silent. "And who has recently popped back up on the radar if you know who I'm referring to."

Underneath the table, my hands balled into fists. So he knew.

Forcibly remaining calm, I said evenly, "You have my attention. What's in it for you?"

The shark-like grin crept back up on his face, making the urge to punch him all the greater. " _Quid pro quo_. There's a waiting semi with an open trailer parked out back. Why don't you hop back in that truck of yours and go check it out. Maybe it will take you somewhere." (Something for something)

My knuckles were undoubtedly turning a fleshy white at this rate, as I could already feel my fists shaking. I knew I couldn't trust this man, but he was definitely offering me genuine info here. Otherwise, he would not have bothered to approach me.

* * *

—Later—

As I have learned quite thoroughly during my years on the streets, you get to spend a lot of time alone. Whether you're in an Indonesian prison a cave in the Afghan mountains or the back of a cargo truck, it comes with the job. You're trained to make the most of it, plan your next move, go over your intel, review your training. But when you've cleaned your gun thirty times and reviewed the past tense of every verb in five languages…you start itching to make a move. Of course, that urge becomes all the more insurmountable when you're stuck with a talking alien truck who is the very definition of trigger happy.

Thankfully, Ironhide had agreed to stay silent in case Lusio was somehow listening.

However…

 _*Bzzt bzzt.*_

Resisting the urge to sigh, I glanced at the screen of my phone, only to sigh when I read the contents of the message.

 _ **Are we there yet?**_ —Ironhide

…That did not stop him from _texting_ me.

 _*Bzzt bzzt.*_

 _ **It's too cramped in here. I wanna shoot something.**_ —Ironhide

From my spot on the floor near the driver's side door, I groaned quietly, texting back a quick reply.

 _ **You are such a child.**_ —Aria

 _ **Am not.**_ —Ironhide

 _ **Are too.**_ —Aria

' _ **Con spy.**_ —Ironhide

 _ **Trigger happy moron.**_ —Aria

 _ **At least I'm happy.**_ —Ironhide

I kicked the tire closest to me for all the good it did me.

"Shut up."

Considering our mutual dislike of each other, we no doubt could have gone back and forth a little while longer, but that idea was cut short when we felt the truck start to slow down and the sounds of screaming, shouting, clanging, gunshots, and a mild explosion came from somewhere outside.

I quickly sent one last text to Ironhide, telling him to get ready before tucking the device away in my back pocket in exchange for the single handgun I had decided to take along with me. Listening to the whir of a helicopter overhead, I took note of how we had now officially stopped moving. So inching cautiously toward the trailer door, I made sure I had a stern expression as well as gun at the ready.

However, instead of the door exploding open or something like I almost expected it to, my cell phone began to ring.

"Yello?"

-{ **Hello, Aria** }- said a smooth voice I knew all too well.

"Lusio, I see you took the liberty of getting my number without my offering. Is it that difficult for you to find a date these days?" I deadpanned, gun still at the ready. "Sounds like you're having quite a party out there."

-{ **Well you know me; I'm full of surprises. As for the party, well…we certainly are, and you're the lucky guest of honor** }- the man said, with a hint of either a grimace or mirth in his voice. I couldn't tell which, though I was more than willing to go with the latter. Anyways, at his words, the door to the cargo truck's back opened, and sunlight filtered in, carrying with it the smell of smoke and dust. A gun at the ready and a grim expression in place, I was greeted with the sight of a small battle field and a burning plane as I stepped out, searching for any signs of attackers.

However, it seemed like I had arrived a little late to the 'party.' The little area was devoid of life. And that fact only served to fuel the ever-brewing bad feeling in my stomach I had gotten since gaining the knowledge that I was dealing with Drake Lusio. And it was only getting worse.

-{ **No need for that, Aria. The shooting's all over.** }- He then added as a (spiteful) afterthought, -{ **I hope you're not too disappointed.** }-

I held back a snarl, still searching. "You can see me? Oh, I wish I could see you," I said, promising hell with every sarcastic syllable uttered. "I thought this was just going to be a favor, Lusio. A favor for the location of whatever hole that bastard is hiding in. But I'm not going to serve jail-time for you."

-{ **It is** }- Drake said simply and I suddenly got a bad feeling as I jumped out of the trailer. -{ **First some business.** }-

"Yeah, sweetheart," I drawled, getting extremely fed up with this guy. "This looks more like a job suited for a clean-up crew."

-{ **Don't worry, Aria. Your unique skillset still holds some value to us.** }-

Why did I not like the sound of that?

"I'm sorry. I didn't catch the rest of who 'us' is."

-{ **No you did not** }- he agreed cryptically, still not giving me an answer.

Nearby, something in the plane exploded, sending up a small geyser of dirt, causing me to duck a little in case of flying debris.

-{ **Why don't we call them our mutual friends and leave it at that? Go over to the car** }- he intoned. -{ **We have something we want you to take care of for us.** }-

"A job?" I hazarded a guess as I padded over to the red car, noticing the limp forms of two bodies along the way.

-{ **Don't call it a job. Call it…a favor.** }-

Why did I not like the way he said the word 'favor'?

Hearing muffled screaming coming from the direction Lusio had directed me, I turned to see a dark-haired man basically hogtied and gagged with a couple zip ties and a lot of duct tape. He was currently leaning against the open passenger-side door of the car, which had certainly seen better days judging by the quality of its smashed windows.

"I assume it has to do with the guy you've got gift-wrapped and duct-taped," I stated obviously, crouching down to check the pulse on one of the bodies but still keeping an eye on the other man.

-{ **His name is Jimmy. He's someone else we asked for a favor.** }- Drake corrected with false sympathy. -{ **You see, he decided to skip town instead.** }-

My grey eyes narrowed. "Oh. So this is your employee retention program," was my sarcastic response, checking the other body only to find the same result: nada.

-{ **You could call it that. He needs to go back to Miami and do as he's told. You need to help him.** }-

"I do? And why's that?" I all but demanded, peering in the empty car before pulling back to look around. Never once did I lower my gun. Trust me, this guy may piss me off to no end, but he wasn't stupid either. I needed to play things carefully otherwise I'd lose this game of chess in a heartbeat, and I did not mean that figuratively.

-{ **We have his wife and daughter. If you don't help, what happens to them?** }- Lusio said smoothly, playing right to my damn bleeding heart. Hearing sirens nearby, I looked around. -{ **Oh, and one more thing. Jimmy called 911 when he saw some of our friends.** **You probably wanna move along.** }-

Carefully, I considered my options. "I do this, and then I get the information?"

-{ **I keep my promises.** }-

Mentally, I sighed before reluctantly saying, "I'll see what I can do." Then with that, the line went dead, and the phone was snapped shut as I turned towards the man at hand, who was currently trying to inch his way across the ground and away from me but not getting very far. Stomping over, I rolled him over with my foot, hearing muffled sobs coming through the duct tape gag. That might have been due to fear or because of how rough I was being, but I didn't let it affect me as I pointing the gun at his face and growled, "Don't move."

Taking the muffled screaming and slightly hindered 'I surrender' gesture as a 'yes', I quickly jogged back to Ironhide. It was a good thing that I had insisted on adding one of those things you use to cover the bed of a truck because that certainly was going to come in handy now. The only thing I had to worry about now was getting Ironhide to agree to hold someone back there.

* * *

As expected, the overgrown tin can was not too happy when I unceremoniously loaded an unexpected passenger into his bed before ordering him to drive. However, when I told him what would happen to him if the police caught us, he eventually relented, no doubt regretting his decision to tag along.

Air bags are great for surviving crashes, but they make some evasive maneuvers tough. Gone are the days when you could run through a stand of trees without a face full of nylon. Of course, anything you used to do head-on you can still do. But it's a little hard on anyone who's stuffed in your trunk, even if the vehicle you are driving is sentient.

Thankfully, despite some really close encounters, we managed to ditch the cops in a small forested area not too far from where Lusio dropped us off. Of course, things probably would have gone a lot smoother of 'Hide and I hadn't started arguing about which way to go and how to lose them best half the time, but it somehow worked out in the end.

* * *

Sometime after nightfall, we stopped in an empty parking lot which I knew to be devoid of any cameras. The reason why we had come back so late was because the two of us had agreed to circle back a couple times and drive around some more to ensure that we weren't followed and reduce the likelihood of the police flagging us down. It was exhausting on us both, but security measures can sometimes seem a little cruel. Just like parents sometimes twist their kid's arm yanking them out of a busy street, sometimes the safest thing isn't the most comfortable.

"'Hide, pop open the bed," I ordered, already moving to get out. "Let's see how our new little friend is doing."

"Fine," the bot relented. "But if he lubricated himself anywhere back there, I _will_ shoot him."

"Yeah you do that," I muttered, closing the door behind me.

"Sorry about the trunk," I apologized to the still gagged and bound man when I opened the latch to the pick-up's bed. Of course, said man only looked at me in horror like I was going to brutally axe-murder him in the next second or something. "But I had to keep you out of sight for a few counties until we got clear of the police."

I leaned in so that I could get a good look at his bindings, but as soon as I did, the man pulled out the crowbar I had left in there and started trying to hit me with it.

Honestly, considering the man was still tied up and therefore did not have his full range of mobility, it didn't hurt so much. But it certainly was annoying. "Jimmy, what are you doing? We don't have time for this," I told him evenly, catching the crowbar mid-swing. "I'm here to help you. Now the people who did this are putting the screws to me too. I don't wanna be here anymore than you do. Now, do you want your family back?"

He nodded slowly, like he wasn't sure if he could trust what he said around me or not. Still, I felt a little better when his feelings did seem genuine; I definitely was dealing with an innocent civilian not one of Lusio's goons.

"I'm gonna work on that," I said, wary of promising him anything. Then, in a tone more fit to a teacher trying to deal with a misbehaving kindergartener, I asked him, "Can you be good? We have a long drive back to New Orleans. If you can be good, you get to ride up front."

Boy was Ironhide going to be hella pissed with me.

* * *

Several hours later, after a quick bite of breakfast at a nearby Mickey-D's, I listened to Jimmy explain what had happened to him while pretending to drive. Well technically it was both me and Ironhide, but Jimmy didn't know that.

"A couple months ago I got a call from this guy," the dark-haired man explained nervously, obviously still frazzled over what had happened in the last couple hours. Then again, the scrawny man seemed a bit naturally nervous, facial structure and jittery disposition inevitably reminding me of a ferret or even a rat.

"Low, drawling voice? And an attitude that makes your skin crawl?" I said dryly.

Jimmy's dark eyes turned wide. "Wait a minute. You know him?"

"Unfortunately, yes. But continue please."

"Anyway, he wanted me to break into this place where I did a job."

"A job? What is it you do, Jimmy?"

"Hey, look. I'm- I'm- I'm into computer systems, okay?" the ferret-like man stuttered, looking like he was ready to start crying. "L-I did a- a gig about a year ago for this company called Security Associates."

"Security Associates? Is that private military?" I probed.

"Yeah, sure. Something like that. I don't know, okay?" he practically squeaked, voice rising several octaves. "They were corporate guys, uh, but- but really scary. And the guy on the phone- he told me to break into there, okay? And get a memory dump off their hard drive and get it back to him."

"What did you say?" I asked though I had a good idea what he was going to say.

"I said he was freaking insane! I'm a computer tech, man. I'm- I'm not- I'm not a break-in guy. So I was like, "No way"—"

"—And this led to you being hog-tied on an airstrip," I finished, trying to keep my voice even in the presence of the near-hysterical man.

"The guy on the phone threatened my family, so we decided to bail," Jimmy continued, words now rushed as his eyes glistened. "We hired this guy with a private plane, and then we went upstate and we were about to leave, and these guys with guns they came out of this helicopter, and then…they just they took my wife and my kid." He then turned to me, eyes pleading. "Please, I don't even know who you are, but you gotta help me."

Feeling my phone buzz with a new text, I pulled the device out with one hand to see two new messages.

 _ **I don't like it, but we have to help this guy.**_ —Ironhide

 _ **But after this you owe me at least a new paint job and a polish and wax for all the gunk and slag I've got in my gears today.**_ —Ironhide

I was kind of surprised he would say that, but I didn't let it show.

"We'll figure something out," I eventually said, a steely look in my grey eyes as I briefly met Jimmy's terrified and watery black ones. However, only Ironhide knew the full implications of what I meant by the word 'We'.

* * *

—Later—

Leaving Jimmy to gather his bags from Ironhide that I had thankfully snagged from the airstrip before we left, I entered my hotel room with small sense of relief. I knew I could trust 'Hide to at least keep an eye on Jimmy and make sure he didn't try to run away.

However, that relaxed sensation was short lived when I got the unshakable impression that I wasn't alone. Seriously? Why did this always happen to me? And how did they even get in here? With a mental sigh, I took a deep breath before jumping into action. Faster than lightning, my body whipped around to face the intruder, gun at the ready.

Thanks to the morning light, I could see my intruder's features quite clearly. And do you want to know the first thing I noticed about the man? Aside from how incredibly huge and well-built he was? Well it was his eyes, they were a bright blue, almost crystalline, but leaned more towards a steel or Air Force blue, just like Ironhide's. With arm's as big and well-muscled as freaking pythons, he was dressed (and acted) like a military man whose whole life was devoted to the military but didn't have a clue on how to act or dress like a civilian when he was finally forced to retire, habitually wearing thick steel-toed boots, belted cargo pants, and always tucking in his shirt because otherwise it felt wrong, like he was naked or something. Yeah, if the plethora of scars—including the one running across his right eye—and the way he had trimmed his almost gunmetal black hair was anything to go by, this guy was definitely military, either current or past.

But none of these features explained who he was and why he was here.

It was only when he spoke that I actually faltered and nearly choked on my own saliva.

"Put the damn gun away, Squishy. It's not going to do you much good," he growled in a familiar voice that had a hint of a British accent to it. He didn't even look remotely afraid of getting shot.

Immediately, I did so, goggling at him like an idiot. "I-Ironhide?"

He rolled his hard, blue-grey eyes at me. "Took you long enough, Squishy."

I said something real intelligent after that like "Eb- deb- ou- ah?" that was probably supposed to mean something along the lines of "What the hell?" but I was having difficulty forming the correct words.

Still, he must have gotten the gist because the man rolled his eyes again in exasperation, folding his arms over his chest. "It's just a hologram, Squishy, called a holoform. It's not very solid, and I can only keep it up for an hour or two."

Finally, I managed to find my tongue. "And why the Pit haven't you told me about this before?" I hissed like an angry cat.

The hologram gave a very Ironhide-like grunt, as if to say 'now you're getting it'. "Because it drains my Energon reserves a lot faster. Plus, it's still basically a prototype from the same 'bot who built that signal dampener. Its only really supposed to fool natives into thinking that there is actually someone behind the wheel." He shook his head in a very human-like gesture, rubbing his forehead. "Look, I'm only showing you this because I'm going to help you help this guy. But, I want to know exactly what is going on here, and I am not just referring to this situation with Jimmy. I know you didn't come here for a vacation."

I sighed, mimicking how he had rubbed his forehead tiredly. "I'll try to explain what I can, but it's a lot, and there are some personal bits I'm just not willing to share just yet. I'll tell you what I can later, just not in front of anyone else, okay?"

"Fine," he grunted just as Jimmy walked through the door.

"So we're safe here?" he asked.

"Uh, safe would be a stretch," I told him bluntly before realizing that those words may not be the best choice to use, as I quickly added, "But let's just say we could do worse."

"Okay. Well, I need my phone, 'cause I have to call—" he began quickly before I cut him off, putting a hand on his shoulder. Hey, it works for alarm clocks so maybe the gesture might keep him from going crazy and crying on me. Lord knows, I do not handle crying well.

"Uh, no, Jimmy. You don't need your phone. You called 911 on a double homicide. The police are now tracking it. You just need to go on in and clean yourself up. Go ahead."

"I– whoa," he was saying before cutting himself short upon catching sight of Ironhide's… holoform did he call it? Anyways, the hologram was probably pretty intimidating for someone like Jimmy, considering what he just went through. It also didn't help that 'Hide was giving him a pretty mean glare, probably for being the unwanted passenger too many.

Still, I really didn't want Jimmy fainting on me or anything, so I quickly jumped in before things could escalate. "Jimmy, this is…Ian, Ian Hyde. He's the one who owns the truck."

"Oh," the man squeaked.

Shooting Ironhide a warning glare from behind Jimmy's turned back, I then also added, "He's also the one who is volunteering to help us with your little problem, so you will probably see him around. However, I think he was just going. Isn't that right, Ian?" I said pointedly.

Shooting me one final look that told me I wasn't going to get out of that conversation I had promised him, he nodded, typical stony look in place. Then without another word, I watched as he _opened_ the door and walked out, _closing_ it behind him as well with a sharp snap.

Sighing inaudibly, I then said more loudly, "Well Jimmy, you better get cleaned up and then try to get some rest. We are going to have a rough couple of hours in a bit, and you are going to need all the zeds you can get."

* * *

—Later, Ironhide's POV—

"Fragnabbit that's cold, Squishy!" Ironhide yelped, his entire alt-mode visibly shivering as the golden-haired femme sprayed him with icy water from the borrowed hose.

"Oh you poor, poor dear. How ever will you survive?" she simpered sarcastically, with a mock pout, obviously taking delight in torturing him as she made sure to hose down the more sensitive parts of his frame first.

Rocking a little on his axels and shivering lightly as cold water rained down in a both blissful yet torturous shower, he cursed loudly several times, both in English and Cybertronian. He was grateful that they were hidden in the alley behind the hotel where the femme was stay, where no one could see him in this state because they surely would never let him live it down.

In any case, while more physically inclined he may be, the Autobot weapon's specialist was not stupid. He knew that his little 'bath' was merely a stalling tactic on the femme's part. With her hair pulled back in that 'clip', he could easily see it in her eyes how unnerved she was. Maybe he had been a little forceful with her, but he knew that sometimes some bots needed a little forceful handling. This femme, Aria Slade-Cage as he believed her full name to be, seemed to be that type, too.

So, when they finally reached the soap and bubbles stage of his treatment, Ironhide decided to get down to business.

"So you gonna tell me why we're really here, femme?"

"Trucks don't typically talk Ironhide," she retorted, spending a ridiculous amount of concentration on a nonexistent patch of dirt on his hood.

"No one's around, fem, and isn't that why you put that little device in your ear in any case?" he pointed out, knowing he had got her by the way she stiffened ever so slightly.

For a human, Aria was ridiculously hard to read. He had learned that much from the get-go. But from past experience with another bot who was like that, Ironhide had learned to read some of the subtle motions of other. It wasn't much, but it helped enough to at least give him an idea or two; every little bit counted.

Anyways, for a moment, Aria did and said nothing, obviously pondering her next words carefully. Finally, though, she spoke, beginning in a low, slow tone of voice. "As you know, a close friend of mine's body turned up not too long ago here in New Orleans." She stopped, chuckling a little but the sound was hollow and melancholy. "Well that isn't entirely accurate. He was actually one of my mentors during a period of my life when I left home and lived out on the streets with the rest of the vermin. I won't bore you with my whole life story here, but I will tell you that my childhood wasn't the greatest and was very short when things got rough and forced me to mature a lot faster than those of my age."

She sighed, shaking her helm like she was trying to clear it of old memories that she didn't want to remember at the moment.

And even as she forced a smile, Ironhide got a pretty good look at the old, war-hardened soul that hid behind a youthful façade and stony, glaring masks and grey eyes. It made him remember an old phrase from when the war was still raging on Cybertron: child soldiers. It was a haunted look only the youthful could get when that saw more than their fair share of combat, especially when there seemed like no end in sight to the carnage. And that was what the femme before him looked like now: a child turned soldier, forced to grow up before her time.

"But that doesn't matter," she continued. "All everyone else thinks is that I'm a mostly normal eighteen-year old, with a normal family, and a knack for getting into fights that others start and I finish. And I am perfectly content to let them believe that."

He could see it now, with both her lip plated drawn back in a slight smile, both the disgust and envy she held for her peers evident. She wanted the ignorance they had. But at the same time, she despised what they took for granted due to her level of maturity.

"Anyways, that's not important. The thing about Azriel's murder is that I know exactly who did it," she continued, voice becoming a little rushed but stronger with evident traces of anger. "But unfortunately, that bastard is a damn near ghost. I've been chasing him for several years now, and he still manages to slip away. And now, after an entire year of silence, he finally decides to show himself by dissecting someone who was like family to me. Worst of all, I have no idea where to look now, so my only lead is to do what that fucking asshole Drake Lusio says, until he gets me my info!" Aria eventually finished, stomping slightly in frustration.

"I'm guessing you two have got a history," he finally spoke.

Aria snorted derisively. "You could say that, which exactly why I am so wary about this job he is having me do. 'Hide, he would cut your throat for the fillings in your teeth if it meant a decent payday."

"You think it's a trap."

"Yes. Knowing that little ratbag, he is going to find some way to double cross us or something. That is about the only thing I can trust him to do."

"So why you, femme?" he asked.

"Because A) He seemed to be under the impression that we are rivals. B) He knows I am way better than him at a lot of things. C) This job might get him in my good graces an in my pants since he's also under the mistaken impression that I am helplessly in love with him. D) If all goes south, I could make the perfect fall-guy and that would be another enemy off his list. E) He's a pompous idiot, whose ego needs serious deflating in my opinion. That about answer your question? Or would you like me to go on? I've got several more—"

"No. I get it," he cut in quickly. "You two have a history, and he's and opportunist who's got a score to settle with you. Now, how do you want to handle this Aria?"

It must have shocked her a little to hear him use her name for the first time instead of calling her 'Decepticon spy' or 'Squishy' or even just 'femme', but it took her a bit to respond. Even he had to admit that it felt weird calling her by her name for the first time. However, when she did, her expression was calculating and thoughtful.

"First, let's finish you up, big guy, before I wake Jimmy. He needs to hear this too."

* * *

—Later, Aria's POV—

It's amazing what a little rest and room service can do for a person. And considering how calm Jimmy was, I was betting he even had a little cry before bed too. It's a little known fact that all men need a good cry at least once a month to sort of balance them and their emotions out.

"So this man on the phone did you ever see him in person? Did he give you a name? Anything?" I asked gently. I needed the full story and facts before I made any decisions.

"No, I told you, I never met him. I mean, he said his name was Drake. That was it. Besides that, it was just, you know, 'Go steal the stuff for us or else'."

"Okay, so what is this data? What's on these computers that they want so badly?" Ironhide asked.

Unfortunately, I think being asked a question he didn't know the answer to, by an intimidating man no less, was the final straw for Jimmy's cool headedness. "I don't know. They don't pay me to look at the files. They pay me to keep people from stealing them. Why do they even need us? I mean, if they're blowing up a plane, they've got guys."

I sighed. "The people behind this, they don't wanna get their hands dirty so they get others to do their work for them, like making us break into Security Associates. It's the sad truth. Anyways, I checked that place out," I said, pulling out a small dossier I had managed to make with the help of the hotel printer and handing it to Ironhide. "Guy who runs it is Ryder Stahl. Guy's been to all the hot spots. Usually has corporate clients who want some heavy firepower. Basically anyplace where more guns equal more money."

"Yeah. That's the guy," Jimmy said, eyes wide and trained on the picture of Stahl.

"Good because I'm gonna need you to make an introduction," I said simply.

Jimmy's eyes bugged. "Talk to Ryder? Face to face? No, no, no, no, no, no, no."

I shared a brief look with Ironhide. "Private security companies don't have a lot of walk-in business, Jimmy, so we're gonna need an introduction, and you're the best we've got."

"If I'm gonna do this, I need to look at their security setup," the ferret-like man relented, finally seeming to take charge a little and show some balls.

"It'll be fine," I soothed. "I'll back you two up if anything goes wrong."

"Wait. What? You're not going in with us? I thought—"

"Unfortunately, Jimmy, some parts of the corporate world still live in the 1800's. They will not take a woman seriously even if she's trying to muscle her way in to the big leagues. All they will see is another pretty face trying to act tough. That being said." I turned to Ironhide. "Hyde, you up for this?"

The two of us stared, almost having a silent conversation. Eventually though, he grunted out, "Yeah."

"Good."

* * *

And that is a wrap for today! For those craving more, you should know that I am working on the next chapter as well as planning out the ones after that.

To the folks who answered my poll on who should realize first that they are falling in love, here is the score:

—Optimus: 6

—Aria: 7

I will be closing this poll sometime before the episode _One Shall Fall_. So basically after I write the chapter detailing the events of the episode _Stronger, Faster_. Also, remember: if you add a small explanation behind your reasoning, I will count that as two votes. And I apologize to those who are uncomfortable with romantic Cybertronian X Human relationships, but that is the way this is going to go.

What else? Oh yeah! So if you guys are wondering about the Light Dragon and the Dark Phoenix bit when Aria meets Lusio, you should know that there is a story behind it. Since they are two of the four most powerful celestial animals, you could say that those two are basically like yin and yang. The dragon and the phoenix are the perfect couple in Feng Shui. The phoenix, or yin, represents the feminine aspect. The dragon however, or yang, represents the masculine aspect. Together, or so the mythology goes, they create a balance to harvest the most successful matrimonial bliss. In a nutshell, they are the "ultimate" couple. If any of you are still curious about this, I suggest that you look it up. It really is quite intriguing.

Anyways, please favorite, follow, and _**REVIEW**_! The 5 review policy is in effect so  four or less reviews = never update again.

Have a great day!


	24. Catching Smoke

Ta-da! Another chapter!

Thanks a million to those who favorited, followed, and reviewed. Give yourselves a pat on the back. Also, I'd like to make a special shout out to my reviewers like **Arkinstone** , **Guest (1)** , **bajy** , **X Valkyrie Prime X** , **Ma-ki Ji-ez** , **Sandy** , **RebelRatchet** , and **Akrisakara**! Even if you guys were just saying something as simple as "Great chapter. Keep it up", you still made my day! Thank you a million times over and then some!

Now On With The Show!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime or Burn Notice or any other recognizable works.

* * *

 **Chapter 24: Catching Smoke**

—Outside Security Associates, Ironhide's POV—

Tugging a little at the collar of the suit his holoform was now wearing, the weapons specialist spared a glance for the small, diminutive human mech next to him, who was nervously fidgeting and sweating slightly.

"Calm down," he grunted, making the human jump a little at the sound of his voice. Apparently, the organic was still scared of him. "You'll be fine."

"Right," the mech, Jimmy, said though it sounded like he didn't really believe him. "Can we just go over it one more time?"

"Sure," he grunted, still fidgeting with the collar of the damn monkey suit Aria had manage to wrangle him into wearing. Seriously, it may only be a complex light hologram, but he could still feel the slight impression of how uncomfortable the clothing articles the femme called a 'business suit' really was. "We go in. You introduce me. _You leave_."

It was almost annoying how jittery the human was. However, he couldn't really blame him either as he was also reviewing his part in the plan (or the parts that the annoying femme had elected to share with him). For Primus' sake, he was a weapon's specialist! Not a saboteur! How on Earth had she managed to get him to agree to this again?

Repressing the urge to needlessly sigh, Ironhide entered the building after Jimmy, looking at all the organics coming and going through the neatly-kept lobby. It was big and somewhat simple; obviously made to impress and intimidate. Glancing around at some of the security guards milling about, he remembered some of the things Aria had told him beforehand.

—Flashback—

"Remember, 'Hide," the femme had told him. "Private military companies are best known for their bodyguard work. It's a big part of their business, but it's not the only part. For a big enough check, they'll rain hot lead down wherever you want. It's not work that attracts "service with a smile" types."

—Flashback End—

He could see what she meant now. Actually, it was quite similar to what he had done before the war. Body guarding that is, not playing mercenary. Keeping one optic on the guards, he watched as the sniveling mech interacted with another whom he assumed to be Stahl.

"Jimmy," the man said easily.

"Hi. Thanks for, um, this is the guy that I told you about," he stuttered gesturing to Ironhide.

Stahl must have been accustomed to the stuttering type like Jimmy because he didn't even raise an optic ridge, merely faced the weapons specialist calmly and said, "You wanted to talk to me?"

Enhancing his accent like Aria suggested, he introduced himself, using the cover identity the femme had created for him. "Terry Miller. Heard a lot of great things about your operation."

The man dipped his head a little as they shook hands. "Ryder Stahl. Jimmy here tells me you're in mining."

"My boy, Jimmy here he says that you're the folks to look for when we need a mercenary," he stated bluntly as he made a show of tucking away his sunglasses, barely sparing a glance for the timid man.

"We're security consultants, not mercenaries," Stahl corrected, face impassive, though Ironhide could tell right away that he was lying.

"Right." He made sure his tone of voice suggested that he didn't believe the mech.

Of course, Jimmy, being the nervous kind of guy he was, tried to cover for could have been taken as insolence on Ironhide's part. Of course, he could just be trying to cover his own hide, but that wasn't the issues. The mech didn't understand that the Autobot was purposefully trying to get a rise out of the man. "L– I think what he meant was–"

"Oi. I can speak for myself, mate," the Autobot in disguise cut in, blue-grey eyes flashing in a dangerous manner. "Piss off then. We got business." Hopefully, Jimmy would take the subtle hint and skedaddle.

Thankfully, he did, obviously still terrified of Ironhide's holoform. "O-okay," the man squeaked before quickly scurrying off.

Acting as though nothing had happened, he then said to Ryder, "You call yourself what you like. I got serious business to be handled. Now, can we go upstairs and talk in private?"

For a moment, the man merely considered him, obviously trying to figure him out or something. However, when faced with either letting someone openly accuse his company of being merc's for hire in public, or moving the conversation somewhere else, Stahl obviously decided that it was better to be safe than sorry, gesturing towards the elevator.

Though he didn't show it, Ironhide allowed himself to feel a little pride at his accomplishment. Hey, he wasn't even a saboteur, and he was doing a pretty decent job 'playing pretend' and getting others to do what he wanted (thanks to Aria's guidance). He was at least entitled to that right.

* * *

"I've got mining interests up round the northern border of Kenya," he explained as he followed Ryder into a spacious, carpeted room with a table and moderately comfortable black chairs. Following the man's lead he sat down in one of them while the man took a seat at the head of the table. "Locals are my problem. I need 'em dealt with."

"'Dealt with'?" the man quoted with a raised optic ridge, playing dumb. "What does that mean?"

Ironhide shot him a look. "You know what it means," he said, playing to the human's imagination a little. "Enough with the word games. I'm willing to pay good money for a permanent solution to my problem."

Eyes glittering wickedly, the man leaned forward a little. "Mr. Miller, you just solicited an illegal act, and my security tells me you've got a backup team sitting on the roof of the parking garage across the street. Are you a cop?"

Ironhide almost winced. Almost. This was just one more reason why he wasn't a politician himself; and this man was good. Thankfully, Aria had prepared him for this.

"Is this a joke?" he demanded.

Stahl shook his head. "No joke. Two-man surveillance team watching." Either, Ironhide's surprise must have shown on his face or Ryder Stahl was in the mood for bragging because the man then added pridefully, "We do regular security sweeps."

Frag it! They had found Aria.

Forcibly, he remained calm. They had talked about this. Ryder didn't fully suspect Ironhide of anything just yet, so he still had a chance to prove himself and convince the man. Under no circumstances besides threat of death was the weapons specialist to blow his cover.

So, taking some of the advice the femme had given him, Ironhide did his best to give the impression that he was a little offended. He even added a harsher growl to his voice as he snapped out, "I don't know who these blokes are, but they're not backup. I've got an operation that looks to prove out in the low nine figures. I got enemies, mate."

There. That was nice and logical, right?

"So they're not yours," the human stated in a tone that suggested that he didn't fully believe him.

"Not mine."

"I guess we'll just have to find out," Stahl said, deciding to call his bluff. "Take him out the back," he told the two guards.

Allowing the two human guards to lead him outside, the Autobot's mind worked furiously. He had a pretty good idea about what was about to go down, and it was not going to be good. He needed to fix this thing and fast. Taking an unnecessary deep breath, he thought long and hard before a memory jumped out at him.

—Flashback—

"Look, 'Hide, I know you're not really someone who does this type of stuff, but I need you to work with me on it," the femme was explaining, stern expression practically demanding him to shut-up and listen closely to what she had to say. "When you're claiming to be someone you're not the key is _commitment_. You've got to sell it like your life depends on it because sometimes it does." By now to steel-like eyes were boring into him. "Under no circumstances do you drop character unless they confront you with _solid evidence_. If they accuse you of something, you get angry, pretend to be insulted. If they offer any type of deal that could be tempting for Terry Miller, you consider it. If they ask you to prove your worth and shoot someone, you pull that trigger."

"Autobot's are sworn not to harm humans though fleshy," he retorted, admittedly more than a little unnerved by her furious scrutiny, though he tried to not show it.

"I thought you might say that," the golden-haired femme mumbled. "I don't care, cannons-for-brains. If they tell you to shoot, you shoot. You are a weapon's specialist for a reason after all! You should at least know how to _aim_ , right?"

It took a moment, but he eventually figured out what she was trying to say.

—Flashback End—

* * *

They were within sight of his vehicle mode now. He could see the outline of his other (non-sentient) hologram in the driver's seat and Aria with her arm hanging out of the open passenger's side window, holding something small and silvery in her hand. Perfect.

Just as one of the men were about to shoot, he made his holoform a little more solid as he grabbed one of the small handguns from the guard closest to him, shouting "Gun!" as he took aim at the object in Aria's hand. Praying that he didn't miss, he fired off a couple shots, sending the object—a hipflask—flying, as well as grazing the side mirror and damaging his back window. It hurt like Pit, but it proved to be worth it as suspicion disappeared from the eyes of the two humans near him.

As Aria had explained to him, one reason to work with the same people is you know each other's moves. So, if you shoot at your team in the middle of an operation, they know to go with it. And even if the two of them didn't really know each other, at least they both know to be prepared.

Of course, as he did this, he made sure to wheel his alt-mode out of there with a screech. And as Aria's face was revealed, their eyes met, and he swore he saw a bit of newly-found respect in the grey-eyed femme's as he ordered the two humans to get down. Of course, then the moment was over and they were back to being 'enemies'.

Hopefully, no one else notice that the driver had disappeared, but that was probably put out of all their processors as the femme pulled out a gun as started shooting back at them.

Now as a weapons specialist, he knew that it took a good marksman to shoot you at 50 feet from a moving car, but he also knew that it takes a great marksman to miss while making it look like they're trying to hit you. Or markswoman, as the case may be, considering one of Aria's shots had grazed his left pede, said markswoman grinning madly as she ducked back in the closing window.

Damn that femme. Either she was just that good, or she was really, really insane.

* * *

—Later, Aria's POV—

"So you're saying that that went well?" Jimmy asked incredulously, staring in horror at all the new cracks, bullet holes, and scuffmarks on Ironhide's v-mode.

It was just me and the ferret-like man as the Autobot was recovering his systems from the use of his holoform today. Well technically two holograms if you included the non-sentient driver ha had conjured for appearances sake. In any case, the mech needed his rest.

"Well he doesn't think Hyde is a cop anymore. And now I got him backstopped with a job history, bank accounts. Even got a British mining company to hire him as a contractor retroactively." Sighing when I saw Jimmy's horror-struck face, I explained slowly and calmly as possible, "Point is, Ryder's boys have been calling around, checking Hyde out. Now we just have to back to him, sell him on the deal and check out his security layout."

"Listen. Even if we pull this thing off I'm the only guy that can get that data, and they know that, okay? If we do this, I'm a dead man," the man whined.

"Never let that happen, Jimmy," I stated, still in that surprisingly even tone, as I doctored up Ironhide's injuries. "One problem at a time."

"That's easy for you to say," the man whined, which did not help my headache.

"Look, Jimbo, either you trust me on this or you leave the fate of your family in the hands of psychopath. Your choice."

For a moment, the diminutive man said nothing, color draining from his face and expression resembling that of someone who had just been slapped in the face with a frozen fish. Then he stuttered out, "I- I'm j-just gonna go to the room and have a drink." And with that, he was gone.

As soon as he was out of sight, a relieved breath escaped me at the same time Ironhide sunk lower on his axels with a sigh of his own.

"Well done, 'Hide. Well done," I said as I leaned against the passenger side door. "How you feeling?"

"Fine," he grunted. "My self-repair systems are working on them damages right now. I should be good to go in a couple hours."

"Good," I sighed, eyes closing as I leaned my full weight back against his frame. "You know you now owe me a new flask."

"Do I?" he grunted, though his tone suggested that he didn't give two shit's. "Well you nearly got me with that last shot today, so I think that makes us even, Squishy." He paused. "Actually, you _made_ me shoot myself, so you'd technically owe me."

"Hey I didn't ask you to come along. I even warned you that things were going to get crazy, and you didn't listen. So, as far as I am concerned we are still even."

He snorted at that but didn't say anything else after that, though I could sense he was smirking lightly like I was.

Silence set in after that, but it wasn't uncomfortable per say. It was quite the opposite actually. But it got me thinking to how our relationship would be after this was all over. Considering that we used to be at each other's throats, we now could work together in semi-harmony with minimal arguing. It was more than a little surprising for me. Seriously, before I had met the Autobot's or had known Optimus for that matter, I would've probably found a way to drop kick someone like Ironhide all the way to Hong Kong in an instant. Had knowing Optimus—trusting him even—and the other Autobot's really changed me so much?

Apparently so. However, the big question now was: Were these changes for better or worse?

Still contemplating the befuddling matter, I shifted a bit more, trying to get a little more comfortable, only to stiffen when my phone began to ring. I groaned softly as I pulled the device from my back pocket.

"No rest for the wicked it seems," I muttered tiredly as Irohide rumbled a little against my back, probably laughing. Glancing at the screen, I frowned before answering.

"Care to tell me why you tipped off Stahl, Lusio?" I immediately asked as soon as I was sure the man on the other end could hear me. I wasn't daft. I bet my bottom dollar that Drake was somehow involved in Ironhide's cover nearly being blown today.

-{ **Just letting you know we can** }- he said simply. Fucking bastard. -{ **I'd like to remind you that there's a clock on this operation of ours. I want you to speak to someone.** }-

Then a new voice was put on the line. One of a little girl. -{ **Daddy?** }- she called, sounding worried.

Anyways, I knew immediately who this was.

"No, it's not your daddy," I said carefully to Jimmy's daughter, trying to figure out what I should say to a kidnapped little girl without making her freak out. "I'm a friend of your dad's."

-{ **Can I talk to him?** }- she pleaded, causing my heart to clench.

"He's not here right now, but he wants me to tell you that he misses you." That sounded like something a father would say to his kid, right?

-{ **I don't like it here. When is he coming?** }-

So even the kid knew something was up. Huh, I guess all kids do have a sort of sixth sense for when something was wrong.

Anyways, deciding to take a risk, I asked her in a quieter voice, "Can you tell me where you are?"

-{ **No, she can't** }- came Drake Lusio's drawling response instead.

"Leave her alone," I said, hoping my emotions wouldn't betray me. "You're not really gonna hurt a little girl."

-{ **Maybe, maybe not. If I get what I want, you don't need to find out.** }-

And with that, the line clicked out.

"Dammit."

* * *

—Later, Security Associates Lobby, Ironhide's POV—

Despite having a couple hour's respite from using a bunch of different hologram's earlier that day, he could still feel the strain this single hologram was putting on him. Hopefully, this endeavor would go over quickly; he would get the measurements Aria requested and get out.

Catching sight of Stahl, he said lowly but loud enough to catch the man's attention, "They said you weren't in, so I waited."

Form stiffening with anger, the man turned and marched over to him. "You got a lot of balls, coming here," he hissed lowly.

 _Trust me mech. I wouldn't have come back here by choice_ , he thought exasperatedly. However, he didn't verbalize any of that. Instead, he let his frown deepen to a scowl as he glared the mech full in the face. "It seems to me if anyone should be upset, mate, it's me," he snapped in the falsetto voice he had used previously. "I'm the one who got shot at. I'm the one who needs a job done. If you're not interested, I leave Miami. If you are interested, we talk now."

For a moment, the mech stayed silent, eyeing him with careful consideration. Ryder obviously still didn't trust him completely, but that was alright with Ironhide. He just needed enough to accomplish his task. In any case though, Stahl eventually seemed to come to a decision. "Come on," he said with a small smile, gesturing towards the elevator. "Let's try it again."

Internally, Ironhide smirked.

—Flashback—

"Why exactly am I pretending to willingly hire a mercenary again?" he demanded, disliking the idea more and more.

Aria sighed before answering. "Every thief knows that the best way to scout a place you wanna rob is as a customer. Who gets to see the vault at the local bank? The rich guy with something to protect." She got right up in his face and prodded him in the chest. "Who gets to see the security at a private military company? A guy who wants to start his own little war. That make sense to you cannons-for-brains?"

—Flashback End—

"There's unoxidized kimberlite in this region here," Ironhide found himself explaining to Stahl while they stood in the room from earlier, pouring over a map Aria had marked up for him. Reaching into the steel brief case next to him, he pulled out a dark, grey-ish, navy-blue stone that was covered in dark crystal-like formations that glittered darkly in the light. Tossing it over to Stahl, who caught it expertly, he continued his little presentation, mostly spitting out the little spiel Aria had concocted for his use. "It's called blue ground. It means diamonds. My problem is the village." He tapped a specifically marked point on the map in emphasis.

"We can handle the problem area," Stahl assured him, making Ironhide's spark pulse in disgust.

Human's really were a violent, primitive race.

Hating himself for even uttering the collection of syllables, he said gruffly, "You eliminate the civilians and burn it."

"You'd never know it was there," the other man said with a nod before turning his full attention on him. "Let's get to the details on the deal."

With slight relief, Ironhide took the distraction, pleased that the man had swallowed the bait. Now Ironhide just needed to reel him in.

"Not so fast, mate. There's a hundred mil U.S. People kill for this deal. Not just those people from the other day," he said, not even needing to fake being a little gruff since it came naturally to him. Then to add the final proverbial nail to the coffin he said, "I need to know my information is secure."

Again, the mercenary/'Security consultant' regarded him before leading him out of the room, listing off several fact that put his line of work in a positive light. To Ironhide however, it just sounded like one well-rehearsed advertisement speech.

"Building security is 24-7. We have biometric security in all the key areas key card access throughout the building," he said, gesturing to one such door as an example.

Listening to Stahl talk about how great his security was, Ironhide recalled another snippet of advisitory info that Aria had given him.

—Flashback—

"…A great way to get people talking about their security is to put them on the defensive. Accuse a guy of having bad locks, and before you know it he's telling you where his motion detectors are," the femme said with a smirk that would have made Unicron the Destroyer proud.

—Flashback End—

Taking advantage of one of the human's pauses he then said in an unimpressed manner, "Right. That's a nice toy, but what about this door?" He knocked on it while scanning the humans' World Wide Web for info. "Hollow core veneer. You can cut through that with a handsaw."

Ryder immediately jumped to defend himself. "That may be, but what do you do then? The door's alarmed. Building security is here in under a minute, police under five." With a couple electronic twitters and beeps, the man keyed in a code, making sure to have his back to Ironhide so the mech wouldn't see the digits, before pressing his thumb to the fingerprint scanner. Next to it, the red light turned green and the locks audibly unlocked, allowing the human to push open the heavy door and reveal a busy, office-like room with a glass paneled wall to the side that displayed three large, data servers. "And here the computer is kept in a sealed room with a burn vault." The merc turned back to Ironhide with a proud smile. "Someone breaks in; it melts the drives to slag."

Nodding faintly, Ironhide walked around a little, mentally counting and documenting his steps as well as the positions of the surveillance cameras and motion and heat detectors in the room. Aria had been very specific about knowing all of that.

"Not bad," he eventually said, coming back over to Ryder. "Could be better. I'll come back Tuesday. We'll talk terms."

* * *

—Later, Hotel, Aria's POV—

Thanks to Ironhide's insight, I was able to draw up a complete floor plan of Security Associates in no time flat. You see, once you've memorized a floor plan and gotten it down on paper as quickly as you can, you can combine that with the technical specs of the security devices in the room and you'll know where the holes in the security are. Then it's just a matter of slipping through one of those holes.

"And what am I going to be doing Aria?" Ironhide asked as he watched me. Jimmy was asleep in the bed to we kept our conversation volume to a minimum.

"I need you to get us into Iso Gene Labs. It's a DNA testing facility one floor above Security Associates," I explained, not looking up from the homemade floor plan. "I need to get in there for an hour at night alone and we're gonna be making a lot of noise."

"You have a high estimation of my skills, Aria," he said with an unreadable look on his holographic features.

"Maybe 'cause you've earned every bit of it?" I hedged with a hinting tone, though giving nothing away.

More probably would have been said, but there was a knock at the door.

 _Seriously, is it just me or are all of our conversations cut short?_

Tired and wary as I was from the events of the past few days, I had my gun loaded and at the ready as I yanked open the door.

"Who are you? Who sent you?" I immediately demanded, pointing the gun in the face of a now quite panicked young man.

Face draining of color, he stuttered out all he knew like Jimmy on a normal day, hands raised up in surrender. "I don't know. I answered an ad. A hundred bucks to deliver a note. Some guy."

"He give you anything?" I said, still not lowering the firearm.

"Yeah. He told me not to open this," the young man said, handing me the small envelope.

With a small dismissive wave, the man was long gone before I even shut the door again. I didn't even need to look up to see the raised brow on Ironhide's face. Locking the door behind me, I went over and sat next to Jimmy on the bed, who was now awake, as I opened the envelope and pulled out a picture on Jimmy and his family—most likely before Drake Lusio had moved in if their smiles were anything to go by—and a new phone. Passing the picture to Jimmy, I opened the phone and hit speed-dial, having no doubt in my mind who the message was; I could feel the eyes of both the cybertronian and human on me.

-{ **I was wondering when you'd call.** }- came Drake's smooth voice after a couple rings.

"Oh, that was some operative you sent," I retorted sarcastically, referring to the delivery boy.

-{ **A freelancer** }- Drake admitted, before chuckling a little. -{ **I don't think he'll be answering newspaper ads for a while. Jimmy got our message? We thought you could use a little reminder of what's at stake here.** }-

I almost growled. "Yeah. We head in tonight. Is that soon enough?" I spat.

-{ **That's fine. Thank you.** }-

"Great," I said with false enthusiasm. "Now, I need something from you."

-{ **What is that?** }- It didn't escape my notice how Drake asked that with some hesitancy.

"The guns your guys used to kill those men at the airstrip. You have 'em?" I prodded, feeling ironhide's suspicious gaze now boring into my back.

-{ **They could probably be located. Whatever for?** }-

"I want them. If I'm gonna work for you, I want tactical support."

-{ **I confess. I'm curious.** }- the man said before agreeing. -{ **Fine. You'll have your guns.** }-

"And Jimmy's family," I added with a small scowl, glancing in the direction of the mentioned man, before continuing in a no-bullshit tone, "I will give you a date and location. You will deliver them when and where I say."

-{ **Of course, Aria.** }- Lusio said easily, and I could just imagine him wearing that false smile of his that screamed untrustworthiness. -{ **We want this to be a good experience for everyone.** }-

And with that, the line was cut.

I only sighed softly, rubbing my face in a tired manner as I muttered under my breath. "Honestly, how can one man sound so untrustworthy and asinine with each syllable he utters?"

* * *

—Later, Nightfall—

Getting into a secure facility is as simple as giving yourself a good reason to be there. Luckily for us, we were going in under the guise of working on an architectural defect, so Jimmy and I would have plenty of time to get in, get what we needed, and make as much noise as we wanted.

Yes, Jimmy, the stuttering wonder, was coming along too. I would have preferred to leave him behind and just send in Ironhide to do my dirty work, but 'Hide was still recovering from using his holoform so much today. Plus, Jimmy had made a pretty valid point earlier in the day when I tried to get him to explain what needed to be done.

—Flashback—

"So once I'm in, how do I get the data?" I asked

"It's complicated," he said while I gave him a look that told him to uncomplicated it for me. "You have to, um Br–" He stopped and then said in a moderately fiercer tone, "I have to come with you."

I shot him another look. "Jimmy. Uh, I don't think this is your kind of operation."

"I know. None of this is," he readily agreed, though I noticed how there seemed to be a new fire burning in his eyes, one that was stronger and more hopeful than the meek, timid one I usually saw when I looked at him. "But those computers and hard drives are completely secure, okay? And I made them that way. To steal the data, we have to tap into the hard wiring in the wall. We'll only have one chance to do that."

"It's gonna be dangerous," I warned.

The fire didn't so much as waver or sputter, only blazed brighter than before. "Doesn't matter. This is for my wife and my daughter. Get me in, and I'll get the data."

—Flashback End—

That was the end of that little discussion.

Still, it took me a little by surprise when he acted perfectly calm when we were placed under the scrutiny of the man in charge of the Iso Gene Lab floor.

"Talk ta our rep?" I asked the waiting man in my Cajun French accent as the elevator doors dinged open.

"He told me you were coming, yes." He seemed a little nervous, brow glistening in the low light and rubbing his sweaty palms together. It almost made me wonder what Ironhide had said to the man to get us in here.

"'ow 'bout 'im, eh?" I said in a boisterous manner, false smile in place as Jimmy and I headed to where we would be 'working', toting our heavy duffel bags with little difficulty. "We gonna be in the back lab over 'ere. We ahre gonna be makin' some noise. It should only take a couple hours. 'ere's some BS 'bout 'e chemee-cals we use. You can come back, but it's gunna be on yer insurance."

Like all people, the man immediately stuttered out a polite refusal upon hearing the bit about the chemicals. Seriously, I swear that excuse worked every time.

Anyways, shutting the door behind me with a bang, Jimmy and I got down to work, pulling out various tools.

Now for those who don't know this, the typical floor is concrete slab over 20-gauge steel pan with steel trusses spaced thirty inches for support. When you cut through a floor the thing you have to worry about is wiring. Cut into the wrong wire and you'll set off the building alarms and electrocute yourself, or both. Anyways, if you don't want a chunk of concrete crashing through to the floor below you need to drill a hole and anchor the slab. A concrete saw cuts it like butter. If you've done your planning right, you'll be dropping into a blind spot for the security system, usually behind an interior wall. As for all the security doodads and whatnot, motion detectors bounce sound off objects and analyze the reflection. If something changes, the alarm goes off. Move slow enough and a wool comforter absorbs enough sound to keep it from triggering. A thermal blanket, meanwhile, shields your body from heat sensors.

Altogether, everything went down smoothly. Before we knew it, Jimmy was hooked up to the system, downloading everything we came for, while I stood guard. It wouldn't do for a security guard to march in and shoot the only guy who could get what we needed.

Checking my phone, I found that I had a new message.

 _ **Stahl is back. Hurry it up.**_ —Ironhide

Quickly typing back a response that told him to hold his position, I turned to the dark-haired man with slight impatience. "How long?"

"I don't know," he whispered back. "It's supposed to be backing up now. The data runs along the cable to the backup drives."

"Well, what's the problem?" I demanded, making sure not to speak too loudly. "We don't have time."

Fear was evident in his dark eyes. Fear of being caught, punished, and unable to save his family. "I know. I set the backup for 11:30. I'm not–" Suddenly, a loading bar popped up on the screen, and the man got excited as the percentage climbed. "Wait, wait, wait, wait. Okay. It's coming. It's coming. It's coming. It's coming. It's coming. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes! Yes! Yes."

However, that was where our luck ended. Unable to contain some of his triumph when the numbers reached 100%, Jimmy fist pumped…and set off the motion detector alarms.

"Oh, God." His eyes were now wide and fearful again, that ferrety look coming back as he continually muttered "Oh, God" in fear.

Words obscured by the blaring alarm—which was nowhere near as bad as the one back on base—I couldn't help but mutter sarcastically, "That's not good."

Jimmy, meanwhile looked to be on the verge of panicking, if not already there. "Oh, God. I'm so sorry."

Giving him a harsh look that immediately sobered him up and prevented any tears, I listened as he asked what we were going to do next, my mind working a million miles per hour. Eventually, though I came to one conclusion.

"Plan B."

As Jimmy set to cleaning up and packing away what he could upon my order, I ran over to the last, unopened duffle bag we had brought in, unzipped it, and pulled out a large gun. You see, quadrangle buckshot is a specialized round designed to destroy the inside of anything delicate. Like say a computer, for example.

Getting into a good stance with clear glasses pulled over my eyes, I fired off several decent shots, pleased when the three glass panels shattered upon impact and the data server fritzed and emitted sparks as well.

Meanwhile, the timid man gawked at me as I put the gun away, pulling him along with me as we made our way out of the room and over to a nearby window. I could feel my heart racing like I when I had to run in gym class, but I doubted it was anywhere near as bad as what Jimmy was experiencing.

Taking out a rope and tossing it to him, I said quickly but clearly as possible, "Take the rope and tie it off."

"We're going out the window?" Jimmy hissed in wide-eyed incredulity, like he couldn't believe that he was about to pull one of those clichéd "thief escapes out a window" moments.

Impatient as ever, I snapped, "Unless you wanna wait around. Now get back."

For hardened security glass I prefer Frag-12, a military round with an explosive projectile. It's a lot more powerful than buckshot, but it's not exactly sold at your local Cabela's. Luckily for Jimmy, he has me on his side, and I just so happen to have such a weapon on me.

Anyways, as soon as our escape route was devoid of glass, the two of us were out the window, sliding down the rope as quickly as possible, though Jimmy nearly gave me a heart attack as he got tangled up in the cord a couple feet away from the ground, slamming into hard brick before falling to the ground.

Thankfully, though, Ironhide was waiting for us not to far away from our exit. As soon as all our bags and us two thieves were laying securely in the back of his bed, the engine roared to life, tires squealing as he gunned it out of there.

This was certainly going to be a night to remember.

* * *

—Next morning—

"Oh! Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow. Okay. Oh– ow, I think I sprained my body," Jimmy complained the next morning, sitting in a chair a little awkwardly and holding an ice-pack to the side he had practically body-slammed into a brick wall last night. He was still waiting for the pain medication to kick in.

"You're fine," I said dismissively.

He turned his gaze to me, a pleading look in them. "Look, I just want my family back."

Unseen to him, my fist clenched a little in barely suppressed ire. With as little sleep as I had gotten the past couple nights, my temper was closer to the surface than it usually was, which was not good. However, I kept myself from taking it out on the poor man, no matter how annoyingly whiny he was. After all, he was just worried about his loved ones.

Thankfully, Ironhide, who was in his holoform again, intervened, possibly sensing the difficulty I was having keeping my temper in check.

"We're working on it, kid. Chill," he grunted.

Jimmy bristled, probably fed up with how nonchalant I had been the entire time. "Yeah? How? Those guys at Security Associates– they're gonna kill me as soon as they get a chance!"

"Exactly," I chirped with a little pep in my step as I pulled out my phone, "And that makes them predictable, and that's how we're gonna solve your problem."

Ignoring both Ironhide's and Jimmy's dumbfounded expressions, I hit the dial button, the person I was calling picking up in a couple rings. "Hey Sam, can you get me a boat? Something disposable? It's for a job." I paused a little, listening before gaining a feral smirk. "That's perfect. Thank you.

* * *

—Later, Mississippi River Docks—

It was a sunny afternoon on the docks of the Mississippi river. A perfect day for an explosion.

"How is _this_ gonna solve my problem?" Jimmy asked as Ironhide and I set up the explosive charges on the once decent boat that was now covered in mold. Not that it mattered. It wasn't going to be around long enough for it to bother any of us.

Trying to figure out how to best word this, I said, "These guys from Security Associates want to kill you. We need to give them the opportunity to do just that." At the sniveling man's dumbstruck look, I shot him a wry smile, trying to make the expression look comforting. "Trust me. The heat that's on you, everyone thinking that you're dead; it's gonna be the best thing that ever happened to you."

With a small beeping sound as he placed another charge, Ironhide glanced at me. "You want this big, right?"

"Just enough for the boat, Hyde. Try not to break all the windows on the Mississippi," I ordered before turning to my current greenhorn after getting a curt but mocking 'Aye, aye, Skipper'. "Jimmy."

"Huh?"

"Call Ryder."

"Are you sure? You– You said the cops would be listening on this phone, so– That's–"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, trying to keep my tone even and measured, as I explained things to the frightened man with all the patience of a teacher explaining to a kid that one plus one equals two. "That's the point. We talked about this, and we practiced it. So you could do that now."

"Okay," he said, doing just that as I watched Ironhide wordlessly climb back on the dock after setting the last charge, heading for his alt-mode, which was hidden somewhere among the tree's. After all, he did have to get ready to re-gift our 'presents' that were courtesy of Drake Lusio's 'friends'.

-{ **Security Associates** }- I heard a woman say on Jimmy's phone.

"Uh, I need to speak to Ryder. Tell–" he caught my eyes, taking in my meaningful expression. "Tell him that it's Jimmy."

-{ **Hold, please.** }-

Giving him a thumbs up sign as encouragement, we didn't have to wait too long for Ryder Stahl to pick up the line. And boy was he angry. -{ **You did a hell of a job on my office, kid. You really think you're gonna get away with this, huh? Do you have any idea who you just took on?** }-

"Please, just listen, okay? It was–" Jimmy glanced at me again, so I made 'keep going gesture with my hand. "It was the guy. The one– The one that I introduced you to."

-{ **Yeah.** }- His tone suggested that either he didn't give a shit or he was just too pissed off to care.

"Look. I wanna make this right, okay? If– If we can just meet, then I can explain everything."

-{ **I don't need explanations, Jimmy** }- Stahl said, seriously scaring Jimmy. -{ **I need my data back.** }-

I frowned a little. It wasn't because of Stahl's tone, but the urgency in his voice from the need to find the stolen data. I, of course, had made a copy of the drive. However, with all the excitement, the chance to look at what was on it was seemingly as close as the distant horizon. What secrets were hidden on there that were worth killing for? What was enough to rattle a ruthless, black hearted mercenary like Ryder Stahl?

Resolving to look into the data on the drive at a later date, I attuned my ear back to the cellular conversation next to me.

"L– I wanna give it back to you."

-{ **That's good. Just tell me where you are.** }-

I smirked. Hook, line, sinker. And soon this would all be over.

Checking the time on my phone, I started counting down.

* * *

Once the cops pick up a call on a flagged cell, they triangulate its location. From there, they organize and deploy units–a process that can take 10 minutes, give or take. Bad guys don't have that chain of command. They can be anywhere as fast as their wheels can take them.

And that was what I was counting on as Jimmy and I watched Stahl and band of merry men arrive not too soon after the call was made. I say the phrase 'merry men' sarcastically because with how they were dressed down to the nines in bulletproof Kevlar; they didn't seem like the 'give us back the data and we will let you live' kind of group, more like 'as soon as we get what we want we are going to turn you into fertilizer' kind of guys. Altogether, they, along with their head honcho, were some pretty not so nice guys.

Thankfully, Jimmy and I were not on the boat I had arranged. We were hiding on another one on a nearby dock, watching the whole spectacle as Ryder's men fanned out to various parts of the surrounding area, while the big man himself made his way cautiously towards the boat.

Obviously, he was a little wary since he paused, opting to call Jimmy first while visually scanning the area. He was no doubt waiting for his men to get into position before moving in.

At my prompting, the timid man answered.

-{ **Jimmy. You wanna talk, we do it face to face.** }- Stahl said, not moving away from the area where the dock met dry land. -{ **Are you coming out or do I come down to the boat?** }-

"How do I know you're not armed?"

-{ **Oh, I don't wanna shoot you, Jimmy. Just wanna get my data back.** }- the man smoothly lied, making my features contort into a silent snarl.

Noticing that Jimmy was looking to me for guidance, I hissed quietly, "Hold him off. Tell him to prove he's unarmed."

He nodded, going back to 'Stahl watching' as he talked on the phone. "I don't believe you."

-{ **Okay?** }- Ryder said, like he was unsure where Jimmy was taking this.

"Show me. Show me that you don't have a gun."

-{ **What do you want me to do? Here. Here. See? Unarmed.** }- he said as he opening his jacket wide, showing he indeed did not carry a weapon anywhere around his waistline.

However, I knew that that was another blatant lie. Stahl was just waiting for the right moment; he wanted to get this little game of cat and mouse over with.

Jimmy glanced at me nervously, but I motioned for him to keep stalling. "L– I don't believe you."

There was a sigh of aggravation on the other end. -{ **Jimmy, I'm not messing around. I'm coming down.** }-

"Wait. Just wait a second," Jimmy said. He turned to me, real fear in his eyes. "He's gonna figure this out. How much longer do I have to do this?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "If he finds out you're not on that boat before the A.T.F. gets here, he will track you down," I stated clearly and firmly. "He will go after you and your family for the rest of your life. You _**will**_ do this now." The look I gave him said 'Do it or else.'

Fearful in that ferrety manner of his, he went back to the conversation on the phone, visibly trying to sound more stern. "Stay back. You don't want your data all over the Internet, do you?" That made Stahl pause. "Now don't take another step. Alright?"

-{ **Alright.** }- the man acquiesced.

Glancing at me again, the dark-haired man then seemed to steel himself before saying with a straight face no less, "Take off your clothes the jacket and the pants and then you can come."

I bit my lip at that one, trying to keep myself from laughing. He may be a little nervous and timid but boy did he have some brass balls when it came time to nut up or shut up.

Even from the distance we were watching at, I could see that the mercenary himself seemed visibly taken aback before cautiously shedding the jacket. However, that was it. -{ **I'm not taking my pants off.** }-

"I'm not messing around," ferret-face snapped back as I glanced at the screen of my phone.

 _ **Planted the guns. Police are getting into position.**_ —Ironhide

The corners of my lips twitched upwards.

-{ **Neither am I.** }- And like that single, ever predictable scene in a movie, we watched as Stahl rested his foot on top of a low post on the dock, rolled down his sock and pulled out the gun he had concealed there.

I sighed. _Called it._

-{ **I lied, Jimmy. Wanna see my gun? Here it is. Now, wanna know what I'm gonna do to you if you don't come out right now?** }-

This time, when Jimmy glanced at me, I gave him the okay gesture coupled with a roguish grin. Eyes lighting up, the man began to egg the furious merc on as said merc stormed towards the arranged boat, gun at the ready. "Yeah. Tell me. Tell me what you're gonna do."

As soon as Stahl was within range, I pressed the detonator.

 _ **BOOOOM!**_

The boat exploded in a shower of fire. The sheer force of it sending Ryder Stahl flying backwards as the police rushed in, shouting at the mercenary and company to drop their weapons and raise their hands in the air.

Beside me, I could hear Jimmy laughing lightly from sheer relief while I just grinned like a shark on wall street winning the lottery. Ryder Stahl would not be bothering anyone for quite some time.

 _It looks like my work here is done._

* * *

—Later—

"It's going to be hard for them to explain why they have guns linked to a double homicide," I later found myself explaining to Jimmy as we drove to the airport. "Still, probably best to make sure no one ever knows you're alive."

"And my family?"

I gave him a reassuring look, without managing to smile. "I have arranged to that you're gonna take a flight to Miami in a couple hours. From there, I have a friend of a friend who's gonna take you on a boat to Haiti tonight. Should be fine. The Coast Guard doesn't pay much attention to boats going to Haiti. From there you'll fly to Argentina and meet your family at the airport."

The look on Jimmy's face was unbelievably light and hopeful. "You really think they'll be there?"

I almost smiled. "Well, Lusio owes me now and knows not to mess with me. If he doesn't keep his promises to you, he loses me as a potential asset and will likely lose a lot of his underground connections if word gets around that he can't keep his promises. Trust me, there are a surprising amount of criminal masterminds who are very against kidnapping other people's families, especially children."

"Man, l– I don't know how to thank you," the man said, apparently at a loss on how to properly express his gratitude. "I gotta leave the country, and you're stuck working for them. I don't know who has it better."

This time, I really did manage to dreg up a minute but wry smile, if only for a brief second before it was gone. "You do, Jimmy. Believe me. You do."

* * *

—Later, Red Moon Sun—

"See how that worked out, Aria? He's happy, we're happy, you're happy," Lusio said genially, making me scowl. "You see? This is why we should work together more often. We could live like royalty and with our combined skills, no one would dare stop us."

My fists clenched and it took every ounce of willpower I had to not sock him in the face. I have never known so much rage in my entire life. Even when dealing with my least favorite teacher in the world, I have never felt so angry in my entire life. I have a feeling that if you compared my levels of ire to that of a rageaholic right now, theirs would probably be more equated to the might of a cranky kitten whilst mine was the equivalent of a fiery monster coated in blood and gore, craving more carnage and destruction.

This was all just a game to this bastard, and we were just pawns to this sick retard.

"No."

He paused in his gabbling, probably taking in how long sheets of golden-blonde hair hid my face. "What?"

" _No_ ," I said again, this time in a loud, clear enough voice. I looked up at him, eyes blazing brighter than the pits of Hell. "I came here for one thing and one thing only, Lusio. Now where is the info you promised?"

I won't deny I took extreme pleasure in how Drake flinched, averting his gaze as he cautiously stuck a hand inside on of his pockets. He had obviously forgotten how dangerous I really was.

Body tensed and ready to react at a moment's notice, I watched with narrowed eyes as he pulled out a single sheet of paper and placed it on the table.

"It's not much," he admitted tightly. "But it's the name of the address I heard he was staying at. If you're lucky, you should be able to make it there in time."

My eyes narrowed, darkening a little as I glared at the address, fingering the thumb drive in my pocket.

* * *

—Some Random Hotel in New Orleans—

Barging into the room with short staffs at the ready and Ironhide's holoform following close behind, I quickly scanned the small, dingy room for signs of the damn bastard, only to find that it was basically empty. Aside from this morning's newspaper laying open on the table and a lukewarm cup of black tea next to it, it could have looked as though no one had even lived there.

Scowling fiercely, I stomped into the apartment, fighting the extreme urge to hit something right then and there. The bastard wasn't fucking here! Someone must have warned that little rat that I was coming, and he must have booked.

"God damn it to hell!" I hollered, knuckles turning white before my entire fist slammed into the wall next to me as my control slipped. I was so damn close, and he managed to slip through my fingers _**yet**_ _ **again**_!

Standing behind me, Ironhide placed a firm hand on my shoulder, maybe to comfort me or to tell me to stop, but I just shrugged him off, storming away. Determined to find something, I proceed to rip the apartment apart, checking everything from top to bottom, knowing full well that the bastard would have covered his tracks.

* * *

Damn. I would not want to be around Aria right now. All that work for nothing except a temporary good feeling and an empty apartment. Not even a good backhanded strike to that bastard, Drake Lusio's face.

Anyways, for the "Who realizes first" poll, these are the current standings:

—Optimus: 12

—Aria: 7

Remember, if you haven't voted yet, you still can. You have until I release the chapter on the episode _One Shall Fall_ to get your thoughts in.

Anyways, please review, favorite, follow, and check out my polls! The **five review policy** is still in effect!


	25. The Secret is Out

Hey! Hope you all had a great 4th of July and managed to catch some pretty spectacular light shows!

Anyhow… I'd like to acknowledge **DooopDoooooopDop** , **Steelcode** , **bajy** , **X Valkyrie Prime X** , **Qzak501** , **AoBlick** and those who favorited and followed this story. You guys ultimately rock! Seriously, I was on cloud 1000 when I came across the words "…amazing  as always."

In any case, this is it folks! The chapter you have all been waiting for! Ironhide meets the Team Prime! Anyways, FYI, I am strictly an English speaker only with meager knowledge of French and Spanish. (Legit, I only know how to say a few words and sentences in each language). I do not know how to read, write, or speak in other languages besides my native one. So if you find any odd translations, you should know that I merely used a translator, so I'm sorry if I messed up anywhere. I am not trying to purposefully insult anyone's culture, beliefs, or anything in between and beyond. That also applied to any insults I used like when Aria called Starscream gay. I am not trying to be hypocritical, and neither is Aria, I just use them as insults for particular characters to make this story more humorous. I am totally cool with and actually admire anyone who has the courage to stand up and go against social norms.

Okay, mini rant over.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime in any way, shape, form or deviation! (Sadly) :'(

* * *

 **Chapter 25: The Secret is Out**

When people die, why do people refer to them as late? Were they supposed to die earlier or something? Or, when they are born, why are they referred to as 'early'? Should they have come into the world at a later date? Were they not wanted at the time or something?

Those were the morbid thoughts that swirled around in my mind as I lay in bed, staring unseeingly up at the blue-painted ceiling with its glow-in-the-dark constellation designs. My mentor, Azriel Slade, had been dead for a little over a week now. A fact of which I was still coming to terms with.

In any case, Ironhide and I had just returned Jasper only a couple hours ago, and I hadn't said a word in the two days since we had searched that hotel room back in New Orleans. Even Ironhide, who had more than one good reason to be pissed off at me, hadn't attempted to engage in conversation with me either. In the two-day drive it took to get from New Orleans to Jasper, not once had the Autobot even tried to goad me into another trivial argument. He could probably sense that I wanted to be left alone with my thoughts for the time being. Of course, that may have also been a side-effect from all the angry and pissed off thoughts clouding my mind as I brooded over the fact I had lost that sick bastard yet again.

Trust me, brooding silence is a heck of a lot scarier than any angry, snarling woman.

In any case, from the looks of things, my bad mood was not going to improve anytime soon. Hell, I hadn't even bothered to call or text Optimus that I was back because I just wasn't up to dealing with him or anyone else right now unless I strictly had to.

I shook my head a little.

No. Correction: I didn't want him to see this side of me. I could barely think straight enough as it is. Wait, no, that sounded wrong.

Growling a little, I turned on my side with a huff, eyes narrowed at no point in particular. Maybe tomorrow, when I went back to school, I would get lucky, and someone would decide to pick a fight with me again. That would surely improve my mental state, even if no one there was even close to my level.

I was just starting to perk up a little when the door to my room suddenly crashed open.

Immediately, a weapon in hand before anyone could even blink and attention snapping to the intruder. However, instead of a gun-toting psycho, like I half expected, I found myself looking at Ironhide's stern-faced holoform.

"Get up Squishy," he commanded, his tone of voice equally as stern as his features.

I finally spoke for the first time in days. "What the fuck?! Ironhide get out of my—"

He marched over, looking like he was ready to drag me out of bed if he had to. "Up. Now."

Face twisted in a half-scowl, half-snarl, I reluctantly did so, standing at my full height of 6'1" and glaring the mech in the face. Considering he was less than two feet away, we were practically nose-to-nose when I got to my feet, and I could now make out the multitude of pale lines marring his face in even greater detail than before. Was it bad that I thought a little of Mad-Eye Moody when I looked at him?

"Get out of my room, Ironhide," I growled. "I am no– What– Hey let go of me you oversized trash compactor!" I hollered when he grasped my good arm with one of his rough hands, that felt a bit like calloused leather, and began dragging me out the door.

"Mute it Squishy," he snapped with equal ferocity, not even bothering to look back at me. "You still owe me for doing your dirty work, and I need a sparring partner."

Taken aback by his words, I blinked a couple times in surprise. How had he known?

Carefully, I studied him, but that was it as I—now a little more willingly—let him drag me along into the warehouse he had been calling home for several weeks now. To my surprise, everything was already set up and waiting; a large red mat laid out with a water bottle filled iced chest set to one side that had a small towel and wrappings set out atop it.

I merely grunted as 'hide released me, shoving me toward the cooler, and ordered me to get ready. Numbly, I stripped myself of my shirt, glad that I had chosen to wear a black sports bra underneath the dark red AC/DC t-shirt. With my old MCJROTC sweat shorts lightly brushing me somewhere at my knees as I stretched out, I soon enough found myself facing off against the Autobot weapon specialist.

He was pretty good; I will admit that. Sure, he mainly relied on his strength and size since he could not keep up with my lithe movements and speed, but he certainly could hold his own against me, even if he did end up with his face shoved into the mat by the end of the first round.

But as we got ready to go at it once again, I finally came to a decision.

I needed to tell the Autobot's about him.

* * *

—Next Day, Jasper High—

" _ **WHAT?!**_ " Miko and I shrieked at the same time, staring at Mr. Brunnswick, our History/Government teacher, in horror.

"You can't be serious!"

"Are you out of your freaking mind?!"

"Tutor her?!"

"I don't need a tutor!"

" _ **I can't work with her!**_ " we both said in unison once again, pointing at each other.

"ENOUGH!" Mr. B shouted, fed up with our protests.

Immediately, we shut up. Though probably for different reasons.

Taking a deep breath, the teacher then fixed us in turn with a stern expression as he addressed each of us. "Yes, I am completely serious, Miss Slade-Cage. You have the highest marks of all my senior classes, despite your frequent absences. Not only that, but I understand that you are already taking college courses online as well and know at least three other languages, including Japanese. That makes you the perfect candidate to help Miss Nakadai with her grades."

He turned his gaze onto Miko then. "And on the contrary Miss Nakadai, your grades suggest that you do need a tutor, or a coach at the very least. In these past two weeks alone, I have not received a single significant assignment from you, and those that I do, I can tell that you only half tried. If you do not start picking up the pace soon, _you will fall behind_. So Miss Nakadai you have two options: either you let Miss Slade-Cage tutor you, or you trade in your passport for a plane ticket back home."

He stopped, looking between us. "Am I understood, girls?"

Both of us were silent. However, swallowing back the uncomfortable lump of revulsion in my throat, I was the first to put my pride aside and say with some forced enthusiasm, "I understand sir. However, I while I promise to do my best, I want you to know that cannot guarantee any results as this depends on Miss Nakadai's cooperation and willingness to get her grades up." I made sure to stand a little straighter and (falsely) smile apologetically as I spoke.

Hey, call me a kiss ass all you want but at least the school authority liked me for it and saw me as more mature than the rest.

I could feel Miko's exasperated eye-roll from my left, but ignored it as the history teacher smiled warmly at me.

"I expected nothing less from you Miss Slade, and I understand if that is the issue. However, I have faith that you will be able to work out something with Miss Nakadai considering your stellar record. Now, any more questions you two?"

He caught Miko's look and quickly said, "And no, this is nonnegotiable Miss Nakadai. In fact, I have already taken the liberty of explaining what is going on to your host parents, and they have agreed to this solution."

Unseen by the two other occupants of the empty classroom, I secretly smirked, eyes glinting mischievously as Miko sagged in defeat.

"Good. Now, here is a list of assignments that Miss Nakadai is still missing. You have two weeks before I simply decide to just fail you," he said, smiling all the while as he gave us his ultimatum.

I merely nodded, taking the slip of paper as Miko gaped in horror.

We were no doubt thinking the same thing; this was going to be hell.

* * *

—Outside Classroom—

"I can't believe the teach is making me work with _you_ of all people!" Miko ranted, making her mutual dislike of me quite evident.

I just ground my teeth, determinedly fixing my gaze on a point straight ahead of me. _Yeah well that makes two of us_.

Seriously, ever since day one when I met her, I knew without a doubt that Miko was not someone I was going to enjoy having around. She was loud, obnoxious, idiotic, and completely disrespectful and carefree. In other words, my exact opposite in almost every way, and someone I could never fully respect. Accomplished she may have been at getting herself all the way to America, she was not the definition of intelligent in my book. Miko took things for granted which should not have been taken for granted in the first place. Adrenaline and attention seeking and completely oblivious to the ways of the world, I had no doubts that she was going to drive herself into an early grave eventually. It _always_ happened with her type unless something significant occurred to them to make them change their ways. But that rarely ever happened.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" Miko's obnoxiously loud voice broke into my internal monologue.

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I turned my gaze on her, face betraying nothing as I snapped, "What?"

With a huff and unrestrained eye roll on her part, Miko tried her best—though it honestly wasn't that spectacular—to give me a stern glare. "I said, just because you are boss bot's charge, that doesn't make you the boss of me. You got that?"

Fed up with her childish antics and overall careless demeanor and disregard of others, I decided to be a bitch. Seriously, I hated people like Miko with a passion, and she was a teenager so that made it inevitably worse. Maybe that was why I was determined to not ever have children?

Anyways, with a mild scowl that made most school bullies wet their pants and run to mama, I said, "Oh really? Well last time I checked, the teacher put me in charge, and your parents agreed to the arrangement wholeheartedly even. So tell me, how am I not the boss of you now?"

Okay, so maybe the phrase "fed up" was a bit mild when it came to how PO-ed I was with Miko, but that girl just seriously got under my skin worse than the scarabs in "The Mummy".

" _Jibun no meinu o okashitekudasai!_ " she snapped in her native language. (Go fuck yourself you bitch!)

Unfortunately, Mr. Brunnswick hadn't been kidding when he said that I knew Japanese along with several other languages—even if he had no idea on how many languages I actually knew—so it was a bit of a nasty surprise when I started firing back insults in Japanese.

" _Anata wa mazu,_ _ **meinu**_ ," I growled, teeth bared. (You first, _bitch_.)

Temporarily muted in her rage, I took advantage of the silence and cockily gave her my best and most mocking, wolfish grin, before turning and walking away, being sure to slam my shoulder into hers on my way out. _Hard_.

Of course, I made sure to drive the stake in deeper as I imparted one last insult. " _Anata no o shiri kara atama o nuite shimaeba, mōichido watashi ni hanashite kudasai._ " (Talk to me again once you've pulled your head out of your ass.)

I merely smirked when the last thing I heard before exiting the educational facility was an enraged shriek, coming from somewhere behind me. Sometimes it really paid to be a purebred bitch.

* * *

—Later, Base—

I have never been more glad to have Optimus as my guardian. When I arrived at base, I half-expected everyone to start bombarding me with questions. After all, my phone conversation the day I had left was not exactly subtle, especially when I had lost control of my emotions like that for a brief moment. Seriously, to them, that one instance was probably akin to a human seeing a legit unicorn.

In any case, when I arrived, I was fully prepared to snap out several unkind sounding "Never you mind's" and "None of your damn businesses'". Instead, as soon as I took a deep breath and pulled my motorcycle helmet off, I found nothing but a few curiosity-filled looks shot my way. However, that was it.

Frankly, I was more than a little stunned and surprised. Then I caught sight of my tall, proud guardian, and I just _knew_ that he had something to do with this. It was the only logical explanation. But you would hear no complaints from me about it.

In fact, as soon as I was comfortably situated on his shoulder like a parrot would be on a pirate's shoulder and we were out of the sight of the others, I made sure to thank him to the best of my ability, giving him a hug around his neck as well as I was able to considering how small I was compared to him. If I'm being completely honest with myself, I think I surprised both of us with my actions. In my defense though, I've had a crazy past week, so I was allowed to be a little off my game.

"Thank you," I whispered quietly, fighting back a blush as I pulled away and schooled my features back into a mask. _Seriously, what is with that odd feeling in my heart again?_

Apparently still recovering himself from my action's he said slowly, "You are most welcome, Aria." _Was it just me or did he just smile a little for a moment there?_

In any case, he didn't push about what had happened. All Optimus did was merely ask if I was alright and tell me that he was always willing to lend an audial if I ever needed to talk. Then we resolved into talking about random stuff, comparing things like human relationships and cybertronian relationships, and actively avoiding talking about the past week. It was surprising how similar yet different our cultures were.

Anyways, as we talked, I eventually managed to gather up enough of my courage to tell him about Ironhide.

Swallowing thickly, I opened my mouth and began to say, "Optimus, I have to tell you something."

However, before I could even get two words out, Ratchet's nearby voice cut in, "Optimus! You're not going to believe this!"

He shot me an apologetic look, those enchanting blue optics of his asking me silently for forgiveness. Swallowing back my words with slight discomfort, I managed a weak smile, feeling my throat relaxing in relief.

"Go on," I told him. "I can tell you later."

* * *

—Later—

"Hoo-yah!"

"Oh!"

"Munched!"

" _Give it up for the baddest beast machines on the planet!_ "

Grey eyes rolling exasperatedly, I continued to work on another one of Ratchet's smashed—I'll give you three guesses as to who did it—devices. The medic could have probably done it himself, but he was busy monitoring the situation with the other bots. Plus, like I had told him, I had much smaller servos meant for getting into even smaller spaces that Autobot digits couldn't reach without a lot of time, patience, and other various tools meant for such jobs. I was basically doing him a favor here.

Anyways, if you are wondering, Miko and I are basically at the 'not talking' stage of being enemies. Oh, we acknowledged each other alright, but that was only when we saw an opening to shoot a barbed comment at the other. We were lucky that there were at least two other people—or bots if you prefer—in the room. Otherwise, we'd probably be at each other's throats. Well, Miko would be dead, and I would be enjoying the silence that came with it, but you get the idea.

Listening as I worked, I couldn't help but smirk a little as Ratchet groaned a little in frustration, that figurative vein no doubt throbbing in his temple. Annoyance evident in his tone, he called over to the loudest duo on Team Prime, "Would you mind lowering the volume?"

Of course, the request went right of the duo's heads with how dense both of them were. Instead, with his optics glued to the television screen, Bulkhead said, "Hey, Ratch, check out the monster-truck rally Miko took me to last week."

"I compiled some highlights with my cellphone," the aforementioned girl added, waving the horrendously pink device in the air.

I guess the medic must have caught a glimpse of what they were watching because he said in a horrified tone, "Innocent vehicles battling for the pleasure of human spectators? Blood sport."

Pausing briefly in my work, I sighed softly at his words. Though they may not have been directed at me, it still stung a little. I mean, what he had just described was the same basic principle of what I did in the street blood fights. Yes, I wasn't exactly proud of what I had done—and what I still did—but hearing that tone of disgust only served to make my internal guilt-o-meter rise further along with my self-loathing.

Still, it didn't exactly make me feel any better when the other two merely cheered excitedly, shouting in unison, "Yeah!"

I shook my head, almost wondering why humans enjoyed such violence. Then again, I couldn't really speak since even I basically reveled in violence, whether it be verbal or physical.

"You could be helping Optimus in the field right now," I heard the medic lecture, obviously aiming his tirade at the green wrecker.

However, I could almost imagine the green giant waving off the other bot's words, saying, "Aw, he doesn't need my help to search for some ancient educational thingamabob."

Of course, Ratchet would scoff, possibly even roll his optics, and say in that same tone he used when he tried to explain the ground bridge to us, "The "thingamabob" to which you refer happens to be a cybertronian data cylinder."

I almost smirked.

Anyhow, looking up from my now completed task, I watched as Ratchet pressed a button on the monitors and caused the TV screen to show an image of what I guessed was the data cylinder.

"Hey!"

"Awe…" the other two complained, obviously not interested in the subject while the older mech continued his lecture.

"And there is no telling what vast intelligence it may hold." More info, mostly written in cybertronian, appeared on the screens in front of Ratchet, probably describing certain features and functions of the device. "During the Golden Age, dozens of these cylinders were created, each containing the sum total of cybertronian knowledge on any given subject stellar cartography, medicine, ancient mythology. When the war broke out, the cylinders were hidden throughout the galaxies to keep them as far as possible from Decepticon reach.

"Detecting one signal here, on Earth, is the opportunity of a—"

"T.M.I., dude," Miko suddenly interrupted, obviously bored out of her mind by the lecture just like her guardian. It was no wonder she wasn't doing well in her classes.

"Switch it back!" the green mech demanded. "I want to see the hoedown showdown!"

Scoffing quietly, I shook my head. _Idiots_.

"If you don't mind explaining Ratchet," I began politely, simultaneously catching the mech's attention and practically feeling Miko rolling her eyes at me from behind my back. "I would like to hear more about the data cylinders."

Like I've said before, I enjoy school for the most part. I mean, it's basically _free_ knowledge, which is one of the more powerful objects in the world. After all, as it has been said time and time again, knowledge _is_ power; it can solve problems as well as create them, win the day for an army, create conflicts such as wars, end them, bring like-minded people together and so on. That's why I tried to learn as much as I could; and that's why I tried to sate my curiosity now.

* * *

—Ratchet's POV—

The Autobot medic glanced at the golden-haired human femme. She actually seemed sincere, not mocking. Still, he couldn't help but say, "Oh? And why would a human be interested in Cybertronian technology."

The stony-faced femme shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. However, the look in her optics gave her away. There was this insatiable twinkle in them, a yearning to know more that only the knowledge-hungry possessed. It made him almost laugh a little because that look, whether she was aware of it or not, was just so familiar to him. It reminded him of a certain, young mech he once knew long ago, who also had had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge too.

Anyways, she said, "Who knows? Maybe the information will come in handy at a later date. You never know."

The femme probably would have said more but was cut short when two successive three-toned beeps from the monitors suddenly issued from the monitors, alerting him to an incoming transmission.

Then, Optimus' voice sounded through the communication link. -{ **Ratchet, Decepticon ambush. The cylinder is at risk. We require backup.** }-

Briefly, Ratchet noted how his leader's voice had taken on a sterner, more gruff tone, like it always did when he was fighting; a brief glance in a certain femme's direction proved that she had noticed it too.

Noiselessly venting, the medic shifted his gaze over to the green mech, giving him the silent message to get ready before he walked over to the ground bridge controls, reactivating the previous set coordinates.

"Backup is what I'm built for," the green wrecker said, pounding his fists together.

"Go bend some fenders, Bulk!" Miko cheered as her guardian ran through the ground bridge.

Figuring that it was best to keep Miko occupied so she wouldn't get herself into trouble, he quickly snatched up something from nearby before approaching the trouble-making youngling. "I have an important mission for you, too, Miko," Ratchet said seriously.

The dark-haired femme perked up. "Really?"

Internally, he smirked. Oh he was so going to enjoy this.

* * *

—Miko's POV—

 _Finally! Some action!_

Reaching over, the medic opened his hand and revealed…a broom.

"Aw!" she groaned.

Hearing faint snickering from nearby, she wanted to refuse, but the look on Ratchet's face prevented her from doing anything else except accepting the cleaning instrument. Apparently pleased, the red and white bot went back to his workstation, where he actually picked up Aria and set her on his shoulder before explaining more about the data cylinder thingies.

Seriously, why did that cow get to sit back and relax while she was stuck cleaning?

She was about to start attacking the chore with as much ferocity as her anger allowed her, but a flash of green out of the corner eyes stopped her. Considering the swirling green mass of the ground bridge where Bulkhead had just disappeared through, an idea suddenly hit her. Making note of how the other two's backs were turned to her, the foreign girl made her escape, dropping the broom with a clatter as she b-lined toward the ground bridge. It was time to prove herself.

Finding herself in a rocky area that gave her a sense of déjà vu, Miko made it through the portal just in time as it closed behind her the second she was through. However, the issue of getting back was the last thing on her mind as she arrived on the chaotic battlefield. Metal clashed and shattered as sparks and blaster fire flew. All the bots were fighting at least one or two opponents at a time. Most of them were your average vehicons, but Miko did catch a glimpse of Breakdown somewhere as well as the 'con medic, Knockout, who fighting Optimus.

Hearing a seriously close fight nearby, she turned in time to see Bulkhead slam his mace into the face of a Decepticon, sending him topping into the ground…right in Miko's direction.

 _Slag_.

Glancing around as the 'con seemed to fall in slow motion, she did the smart thing and ran for it, thankfully going unnoticed by either of the warring factions. Behind her, she could hear, as well as feel the tremors the con caused as he hit the dirt; the resounding, small shockwave sending her tumbling though she managed to right herself in time to skid to a halt behind some rocks.

Unlike most people, who would probably be terrified to be stuck in a battleground for giant robots, Miko merely smiled, peering out from her cover to watch the epic smack-down of the century go down.

She gasped and wowed in excitement as she watched the Autobot scout, Bumblebee, pull off some pretty sweet boxing moves on one particularly unfortunate 'con, before peering around the other side of the boulder.

"Whoa."

Completely enraptured, Miko watched as Optimus managed to send Knockout flying with a solid punch to the chassis. It was so damn wicked, and it made her grin like a lunatic. She would be willing to bet her guitar that Aria would be so jealous of her right about now as she was missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime to watch her badass guardian—second only to Bulkhead of course—beat the snot out of some Decepticon's.

"Autobots, stand your ground," the Prime shouted. "The artifact must not fall into enemy hands."

Miko blinked.

 _Right_ , she reminded herself, remembering what she had come here for. _It's time to get down to business_. She couldn't wait to see Aria's face when she brought the data cylinder back all by herself.

Peering out from her cover, she looked around the battleground, scanning for the device from Ratchet's pictures. Finally, though, she spotted it, nearly thirty yards away.

However, someone else was already making a swipe for it.

In retrospect, it was like watching some comical race between all the good guys and bad guys, as Arcee charged for the device, only to be knocked aside by the already recovered Knockout. Getting dangerously close to the device, Doc Knock had his clawed hands reaching for the cylinder, saying, "Come to papa."

However, before he could get ten feet closer, Bulkhead swooped in and punched him aside like a badass, growling in a deadpanned tone, "Run to mommy."

Then Breakdown came up behind him, knocking him over the head, before grabbing him by it and lifting him off the ground. "Say "Uncle." Say it!" he laughed tauntingly.

With the con's back turned, she used the distraction to her advantage, racing over until she skidded to a halt behind the device. Really, it was _huge_! It had to have been at least twice her height! Still, hopefully it was lighter than it looked.

Whipping out her phone, she dialed the Autobot base, making sure to keep an eye out in case someone saw her. "Ratchet, come in," she finally said when the medic picked up.

-{ **Miko? This is an emergency channel. We need to keep it open for the Auto–** }- He stopped, probably hearing the distant clashes of metal in the background. -{ **Wait. Where are you?** }-

"D'oy! I'm with the thingamabob," she snapped, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Seriously, weren't doctors supposed to be smart? Especially alien ones like Ratchet?

-{ **Thingama– The data cylinder?!** }- he squawked.

"Yes. Can you bridge it out of here?" she demanded, shielding her face from a sudden upsurge of dust from a nearby fight. Was it just her or was everyone getting closer all of a sudden?

-{ **I'll reactivate arrival coordinates.** }-

A moment later, she heard the tell-tale swishing, humming sound of a ground bridge being opened up. Peering over the top of the device carefully, she nearly screamed in frustration when she saw how far away it was. "Dude, can you open it any closer?" she complained. She wasn't the freaking Incredible Hulk here!

-{ **Supply coordinates.** }-

"Um, 50 yards?" she tried.

-{ _ **Precise**_ **coordinates.** }- Ratchet emphasized.

 _Bang!_

"Wha!"

Miko had to duck as a shot came way too close for comfort. Panting slightly, she gathered her wits about her, standing up, pocketing the device, and turning around in an attempt to push the device toward the portal.

It didn't budge. Maybe it was caught on a big rock or something?

 _Okay then_ , she thought, backing some ways away from the cylinder. Well no pain, no gain, right?

Then she charged. "One… Two… haaa!" Her feet met the side of the device, but all it did was rock a little while her body obeyed the laws of gravity and slammed into the ground with a small "Oof!"

Then something unexpected happened. At first, it sounded like one of the bots was powering up a blaster, except it was either rusted or clogged or it was underwater or something. Looking up, Miko watched as the blue bio-lights on the device lit up along with the one end that had the red lens-thingy on it.

 _Uh-oh_ , she thought, staring in horror. Suddenly, the end with the red cap transformed a little.

"Whoa!"

However, the device's reaction didn't go unnoticed by the other's either.

"Miko?" Bulkhead called, catching sight of her, eyes going wide when he saw the cylinder charging up to do…something. He knocked his opponent, as well as anyone who stood in his way, aside with his mace as he charged over. "No!"

Suddenly, the big green bot tripped over a rock, landing so that his face was directly in front of the device, only separated by a couple feet. It was in that moment, just as he landed, that the device discharged a red beam of light…right into Bulkhead's head.

"Bulk!" she cried, running over as her guardian seemed to pass out.

"You really took one for the team, Bulkhead," Knockout practically purred mockingly as he walked over and snatched up the device. " _My_ team."

And with that, all the con's in the area booked it out of there into their own ground bridge, disappearing from sight.

"Bulkhead, are you—?" boss bot asked as the rest of them rushed over, worry evident in the Prime's tone.

"Fine. It didn't even smart," the green bot quickly waved off, getting to his feet a little unsteadily.

Hugging the bot's ankle, Miko almost smiled at that. However, the sense of looming dread stopped her. It wasn't so much that she was dreading the imminent lecture she was no doubt going to get when they went back to base; she could easily tune out of that. No, it was the disapproving look on Aria's face that she was going to see, the one that seemed to look down on her with a sort of smugness and say in nonverbal mockery "I _knew_ you couldn't do it."

There was just going to be no living with that bitch now.

* * *

—Base, Aria's POV—

Since she knew that outright smacking the living daylights out of the foreign exchange student would be frowned upon, Aria settled for glaring daggers at Miko's back from her perch up on one of the higher catwalks.

"I helped lose that thing. I want to help find it," Bulkhead prodded. "I need to get back in the field with Optimus."

"Eh, eh, you're under my watch now. Optimus' orders," the medic said, waving a wrench threateningly. "And running a full scan of your neural net would be a wiser use of your time."

"Come on, doc. There's nothing up there to scan," the green bot whined.

"He seems fine to me," Miko chirped (un)helpfully, causing Aria to roll her eyes.

Ratchet groaned, finally relenting. "Well, if you insist on making yourself useful, you can help Miko tidy up." He opened his servo to show the broom Miko had dropped earlier.

Figuring that Ratchet had things covered, Aria turned and left the room with a scoff, listening as Miko complained about Ratchet being mad with power. The last thing she heard was Miko and Bulkhead saying something about an art project.

Stretching a little, she felt her muscles and bones groan a little. She seriously needed a nap.

* * *

—Later—

Luckily for me, I managed to get that small catnap in, using Optimus' room as it was the only place on base least likely to be disturbed. However, upon finding the main room empty, I made my way over to the medbay just in time to hear what had happened. For Primus' sake! I was only asleep for about an hour and _this_ is what happened? _**Really**_ _people?_

Sticking to the shadows, I managed to sneak into the room unnoticed, listening as Ratchet talked.

"This hot spot you see here," the medic said, pointing to a particular spot on the scan of Bulkhead's helm. "It's information, data, living energy."

"Hold on. It's alive, it's on fire, and it's in Bulkhead's brain?" Miko asked, getting louder with each word. However, not once did that look of worry retreat from her features and tone.

"Chill, Miko," Bulkhead said from his place on the medical examination table. "The data's only inhabiting a fraction of my brain, infinitesimal by standard neural-net densities." He stopped himself, optics wide, looking stunned. "Wait. How do I know all that?"

"Based on what we witnessed during our skirmish," Optimus began, "the living data must have been programmed to eject when it sensed unauthorized access."

"A security measure," Ratchet surmised with a thoughtful hum, practically reading my mind.

"It would have jettisoned heavenward," the Autobot leader continued, "lost to the stars."

"Except my fat engine block got in the way," Bulkhead concluded bluntly.

Arcee, however, appeared confused. "Every 'con there made a grab for it, but the cylinder doesn't go off until Miko touches it?"

"The cylinders originated from Cybertron's Golden Age, predating the Autobot/Decepticon division," the scarlet and white medic said knowledgeably, pulling up a schematic of the cylinder on the screen in front of him.

"So it wouldn't consider any native of Cybertron to be a threat," Optimus concluded.

"Only alien life forms, such as humans," Ratchet input.

That was an odd thought. We always thought of the Autobot's and Decepticon's as aliens, never stopping to think that they technically viewed us humans the same way.

:{ _So what does it all mean?_ }: Bee whirred questioningly.

"Are we staring at genius or gibberish?" Arcee prodded, gesturing at Bulkhead's 'art'.

"I do not wish to falsely rally anyone's hopes," the medic said slowly, drawing everyone's attention with the suspense. "But these equations appear to be the formula for a synthetic energon."

Everyone froze.

Then, despite the medic's previous words, a palpable excitement seemed to hang in the air.

:{ _Hell yeah! Jackpot! Whoo-hooo!_ }: Bee cheered excitedly, the first to break the tension.

On the other hand, though, Arcee still seemed to be computing what was said, though she was obviously excited. "We hit the mother lode?"

Bulkhead turned to his charge, grinning. "Miko, do you understand what this means?"

"Um…"

I snorted. Of course she couldn't put two and two together. Luckily for her, Bulkhead filled her in; I guess there was hope for at least one of the duo.

"Energon provides our fuel, our ammo, our life force. With the natural stuff in such short supply here on Earth, this could solve a whole lot of problems," he said, glancing over at the Prime, who nodded.

"Such as providing us with the edge we need to turn the tide of this war," Optimus declared, hope shining brightly in his optics.

"Or handing us the key to revitalizing Cybertron," Ratchet put in, joining in on the excitement.

"We got the goods, and all Megatron got was an empty bucket," Arcee obviously couldn't help but smirk.

"How often do I get to use my noggin to save the day?" Bulkhead said jokingly with a smile

Everyone in the room had smiles on their faces, big and small.

Everyone, except for me, that is. And for some reason, I just had a very bad feeling about this.

* * *

—Later—

Watching from the shadows like I did best, that bad feeling from the beginning had been steadily growing as I watched Bulkhead slowly become more distant with Miko and become more like a cybertronian version of Hermione Granger. It was actually starting to worry me.

"…Intersection of atomic coordinates indicate convergent tertiary structures…" the green mech was mumbling.

"Aren't you done yet?!" Miko complained but her guardian just ignored her.

No joke, he legit _ignored_ _Miko_ of people. Now I could understand other people doing so, but this is Bulkhead and Miko of all people. They are best buddies. They _never_ ignore each other.

But here he was, muttering something about "Resulting in an asymmetric…", completely tuning Miko out.

Nearby, I could also hear Arcee and Bee talking about how weird it was seeing Bulkhead 'brainiac mode' as the blue femme dubbed it.

"…Vector l1 norm squared…"

"Break time!" Miko suddenly called loudly, trying to get Bulkhead's attention as Arcee dragged away the filled metal canvas. "How about a lightning round of "TNT Street Racer 7"?"

But the mech just kept painting on the metal boards laid out for him, muttering chemical and mathematical gibberish to himself.

"…Energon temperatures and volume proportion…"

Miko just groaned dejectedly, maybe hoping that if she seemed sad or something, Bulkhead would finally react. But there was still no change.

"…Angle trisector construction…"

Sighing, I decided to follow Arcee and Bee like a little shadow almost, listening as the femme called, "Got another round for you to log, Ratchet."

Meanwhile, the medic seemed to be explaining something to my guardian, both of their expressions looking grim.

"This is Bulkhead's neural net as you saw it earlier," I heard him saying as I crept over, pointing at the picture on the screen.

"This scan was recorded just minutes ago."

Climbing up onto the catwalk just behind said screen, I watched as he pressed a couple keys and pulled up another image of Bulkhead's cranial cavity, only this one was a little more different. It seemed to me as if more areas were active than the previous scan, but they were colored red, spreading outward from the original spot like a plague.

I felt myself grip the railing in horror; it was the cybonic plague all over again.

"It is as I feared. The data seems to be actively and _aggressively_ rewriting Bulkhead's neural net. I had hoped he was purging the data, but he seems to be merely transcribing it as it…"

"Consumes his mind," Optimus finished, tone grave. I could tell that we were both thinking along similar lines right now.

The medic continued, rattling off info like my sister would after she read another medical encyclopedia, only there was less excitement, and I doubted that the medic would be bouncing on the balls of his pede's anytime soon. "From all indications, by the time Bulkhead completes the formula, his own thoughts, his memories…could be wiped clean," he concluded.

Arcee, who had apparently been listening while Bumblebee was who knew where, stepped forward. "But if we stop him, goodbye, synthetic energon," she said.

The medic looked at her. "You assume we possess a means of stopping him. I don't exactly have instant access to the wisdom of the Ancients."

Like always, Optimus make the difficult decision, opting as always to save the life of a comrade now than take a chance that may win him the war. Maybe that made him predictable according to Megatron, something to be exploited, but it was an admirable action nonetheless. "I will not allow another one of our own to be sacrificed, no matter the cost," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The medic nodded. "If the living data transmitted itself from the cylinder, perhaps we could somehow coax it back inside," he suggested thoughtful yet hopeful at the same time.

For a brief moment, contemplative silence settled over us.

"What is it Aria?" Optimus suddenly asked, probably noticing my troubled expression.

Brows still furrowed, my gaze met those of the Autobots' who were standing before me. "It's just…it doesn't make sense." I shook my head a little, massaging my forehead. "Maybe it's just because I'm human or something, but…well, it sounds like you all seem to think that it's the device that controls the ejection of the data. But that doesn't make sense. Now I may not be a big computer techie, but usually it's a computer program that would be responsible for a data purge, like when you hit the delete button on a computer."

His metal brows now drawn together like mine were, Ratchet considered me like he was just grasping what I was saying, asking in a halting tone, "What are you trying to say?"

Meeting his gaze, I said, "What if that program is part of what Bulkhead is spewing out now, and that those data purge protocols are still active?"

"But…that's…. completely and entirely possible," Ratchet gasped, optics wide, staring off at some far away point.

"Okay, now that we've figured that little problem out," the blue and pink femme began, "that still leaves one other problem: How are we supposed to get it back from the Decepticon's?"

This time, it was my guardians turn to come up with a plan. "Megatron will bring it to us," he said with such certainty, that I almost believed him.

* * *

—Later—

From my perch, I watched as Miko continuously tried to get a reaction of some kind out of her guardian; and with each failed attempt, the girl looked more and more hopeless.

After our little conversation, Optimus had rigged up a device with Ratchet's help that faked the signature of the data cylinder before taking Bumblebee and Arcee with him through the ground bridge to the coordinates of where he would meet up with Megatron. However, before leaving, both he and the medic had pulled me aside with the request to keep an eye on Miko. We hadn't told the foreign exchange student anything about what we had discovered. The main reason behind this being that we all knew she would do something foolish. Plus, neither of them wanted to cause her any undue emotional harm. Personally, I think they just hoped that they could fix all of this without the girl noticing, so that it all would be gone the next day like a bad dream.

However, this charade didn't seem like it was going to last long, and all of us knew it, which is why I was asked to look out for her. Not to mention, they both knew I was capable of dragging her back through the ground bridge if the need arose.

"…Coefficient quotient of the subset amplified…" the bulky mech mumbled.

"You want amplified?" I heard the girl hiss, with a determined light in her eyes.

Despite being on less than civil terms, I had to hand it to her: the girl certainly was certainly creative. I mean attempting to catch his attention by way of music certainly was a new one in the long list of attempts so far.

"…Proving Preceptor's paradox is nothing of the kind…"

Then she began to play. And there was almost an immediate reaction. "Aah! What is that?!" he hollered, covering his audials.

My brows furrowed. _Did he just call his favorite type of music 'that'?_

Obviously pleased that she had finally got some results, she replied in a tone that suggested that it should be obvious, "Metal. You love this song."

"I'm trying to concentrate," he growled in a very un-Bulkhead-like way.

Miko growled. "You're starting to sound just like Ratchet!" she snapped.

My eyes widened at the mech's following response. "Who?"

 _Oh, slag_.

Obviously, Miko agreed with my mental statement because her eyes widened before she turned tail and headed over to Ratchet.

Quietly, I made sure to be unseen as I listened in.

"Ratch, I think Bulk's losing his mind," the younger girl said, in a small voice. She then must have seen Ratchet's expression. "You…already know."

"Miko, we didn't want to frighten you," he admitted in a placating way that I'm positive all medics learned during their training. "But rest assured, Optimus has a plan."

"Optimus isn't Bulkhead's doctor," she snapped, statement quite astute for her typical day to day comments. "I just need to know, when Bulk's done spitting out that formula, he'll go back to being regular old Bulkhead…right?"

* * *

—Later—

Now that Miko knew, she tried to get Bulkhead back to himself with a new, frenzied fervor in her eyes and actions.

"Do you remember the time you watched Wheeljack lob his only grenade into the Decepticon heat exchanger?" she prodded, dwindling hope in her eyes.

"Who?" was all she got in response. He didn't even so much as look in her direction.

"Wheeljack! Your best bud?!" she cried with false enthusiasm, flipping open her phone to probably show him a picture, adding quickly, "Besides me, of course."

Even now, I could see that flame of hope dying; it was all there in her posture and mannerisms. "Oh!" she groaned in half-frustration, half-dejection. "Do you even know who I am?" she finally asked, no doubt fearing the answer.

"Of course. You're…" he thought about it for several seconds before he was back to spewing nerd. "Equivalent to the flattening of the oblate spheroid to the nth power. Internal energy of isolated "E" remains constant…"

"Keep them coming, Bulkhead," the medic encouraged as he walked over and pulled the metal plate away to reveal a fresh canvas for the mech to paint on.

However, as the red and white mech disappeared into his lair, my eyes narrowed in suspicion as Miko looked around in almost a lost daze before heading over to a nearby desktop computer and typing something in.

Deciding to wait and see what she was up to before attempting to stop her, I watched as she managed to get the ground bridge up and running, coordinates set to a location of her choosing. Directly after, she waited until Bulkhead's servo was close enough before grabbing the cleaning instrument, turned paintbrush and dashing toward the ground bridge. "Come on," she called cajolingly, in a tone better suited for a scared animal, waving the cleaning tool enticingly. "You want to finish your formula, don't you?"

I could only watch as mech followed her like a lost puppy dog through the swirling portal before following through myself, sending up a silent apology to my guardian and the medic who had been counting on me.

 _Sorry Sangroyal, Ratchet, but this had to happen. Otherwise, we may just loose more than one member of Team Prime._

* * *

—Later—

Stepping out onto solid ground, I almost managed a wry smile. _The monster truck rally's arena? Seriously? Where does this girl come up with these ideas?_

"Look! You love monster trucks," I could hear Miko saying somewhere nearby. Figuring it wouldn't go down well if Miko found me following her, I dove for the nearest cover behind a cement ramp, whipping out my phone and texting the first bot I could find on my contacts list, telling them to get to the location before something bad happens. Meanwhile, I kept an ear on Miko and the other out for trouble.

"Remember when we snuck in here after the show last week?"

 _Ah, so that's why she came here of all places. She was hoping that, like it sometimes does with amnesia cases, seeing a familiar site would trigger something in him._

"…Mass times diffusion rate squared is constant…"

 _It's a pity she didn't get the memo that the data is taking over his mind, not deleting his memories. At least not yet that is._

"Is any of this ringing a bell?" she tried, voice rising in desperation.

"Bell curve? No, no, no. That wouldn't factor in."

I peered around, spotting Bulkhead painting one of the walls of the arena with more technical spew, and Miko standing not too far away. Both had their back's turned to me.

"How about our Sunday-morning dune bashings, rocking out to Slash Monkey, helping me with my homework? Ha! Trick question! You know I don't do homework…Don't you?" she tried, tone becoming more frantic. "Okay, forget the past. Starting now, we can make new memories."

Honestly, it was kind of sad to watch; Miko practically pleading, grasping feebly at any straws she could reach, trying to get her best friend back while overwhelming amounts of data took over Bulkhead's processor.

"…The cube root of the exothermic energon yield Delta "E" violates Clank's law of energon conservation…"

Then Miko said something that took me a little by surprise, if yanked at my heart strings a little too. However, now wasn't the time because we had company, and I had no idea how long I could stall before help finally arrived.

"Bulkhead, I know somewhere inside, you will always remember me, and I just want you to know I'll never forget you."

Then, one of our uninvited guests had to interrupt. "Boo-hoo! I'm shedding lubricant."

 _Seriously, how do beings so_ big _managed to make so_ little _noise?_

Her eyes growing wide in surprise before narrowing in determination as she turned to her guardian, I barely heard her next words as she hissed, "Follow me right now, or these guys are gonna _steal the formula_!"

Like a switch had been flipped, those were apparently the magic words to say because Bulkhead immediately reacted.

"My equations?" he said in an almost panicked tone, like some part of the old Bulkhead was still there.

"Come on, come on!" Miko called, leading the mech away towards one of the vehicle entrances on the side.

Being careful enough to say absolutely silent and out of sight, I followed the cons while they followed Miko.

"Not like Bulkhead to run from a fight," I could hear one of them—I think it was Breakdown—say.

The other Decepticon, Knockout, merely said, "I'm afraid our friend has had a little too much to think." Then he pressed a digit to his temple and said, "Lord Megatron, we're good."

Silently, I cursed. _Dammit! Now Optimus' plan has gone to scrap._

Anyways, upon seeing the dozens of monster trucks that could be mistaken for Bulkhead, with the mech nowhere in sight, my mood improved slightly, face threatening to break out in a grin.

"Okay, then. Fun and games," Knockout said before the pair spilt up.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," the medically inclined, but nonetheless narcissistic con drawled as he strolled along the lines of trucks.

Breathing deeply, I hoped Miko was safe, and that my message had gotten through in time. I had no doubts that the 'cons were probably scrambling and all cell signals.

Picking up a sizable rock, I lobbed it at the nearest Decepticon's head…which happened to be Knockout of all mech's. You may not see it now, but I'm wearing an absolutely feral look right now. I knew all about Knockout's narcissistic habits, and I was planning on using it to my fully advantage.

Predictably, when the throw resulted in a nicely sized dent in the con's cheek, the red mech growled ferally, "You're going to pay for that fleshy!"

While his partner ran over to him, the red-opticed con searched fruitlessly for me lifting up vehicle like that would shake me loose from my hiding spot. However, I was already on the move, finding a new location before lobbing another stone at a certain red mech.

The con began to visibly seethed, and I could imagine steam shooting out of his ears like in some cartoon. "Do that again and I will skin you alive!"

"Knockout, what's—?" the one eyed con began to ask.

 _Crash! Clang!_

Two more rocks sailed through the air in quick succession, one nailing the mech in his remaining eye before rebounding and scratching one of knockout's shoulder's, while the other one scraped his chassis.

Smirking in my shadowy hiding place, I watched as the mech stared at his scratched paint in horror, before he looked up, murder in his bloody gaze. "That is it! I'm going to find you fleshy, and when I do, I'm going to skin you and then rip you _limb from limb_!" the mech screeched.

"You'll have to catch me first," I sing-songed, my voice nothing but taint carried on the wind.

The con bared his teeth before turning to his partner. "Find Bulkhead, I'm going to deal with a _nuisance_."

 _Clang!_

"Arrggh!"

Another scratch on the mech's perfect paintjob.

I was just behind the con now, and I know that my eyes were glittering like firework on the fourth of July, slate grey full of mischief. Climbing carefully until I was level with his back, I made sure to secure my grip on one of the con's particular features before taking out my house key and beginning to write.

 _Scccrrrreeeeech! Screech! Sccccrrrreeeeeecchhhhhhhh!_

"What the—? Argh! I'm going to kill you fleshy!" the con screeched as he realized what was going on, trying to grab for me but I was in that exact spot that everyone seemed to have trouble reaching in the shower. Only once I was finished did I let go, smirking all the while and wanting to laugh myself to tears about what I had done.

 **I must have an**

 **amazing aft.**

 **Every time I walk**

 **away from someone,**

 **I hear them whisper,**

" **What an aft."**

Ducking under a truck, I was long gone by the time the con lifted up the vehicle to look for me, singing _I Love Myself_ by Kendrick Lamar rather raucously and making sure to emphasize the lyrics 'I love myself' every single time and substituting in some of my own insulting lyrics when I could think of any.

The mech growled. But he stopped himself before he could make good on his promise to 'skin me alive'.

"Breakdown, forget the humans. Games are only fun to play—" much to my horror, he drew out a scanner, obviously tuned to search for the energy signature of the data. "—When you're winning."

And that was where our little game ended, much to my frustration. Megatron must have really had something on the mech because he barely spared a glance my way when I continued to taunt and pummel him with rocks, both verbal and physical. Only time he did react was when he tossed one of the smaller trucks my way. Eventually though, he came to stop before a familiar green vehicle.

"I think I'm warm."

Suddenly, Bulkhead transformed and _painted_ Knockout, muttering science whizz babble all the while. "En3 divided by the square root of the propulsion factor equals—"

Knockout's blood red eyes blazed. "You painted my paint job! Prepare for surgery!"

I could only watch as Breakdown then came in from behind and sucker punched Bulkhead. KO-ed from the hit, the doctor reached down and tilted the Autobot's head up, exposing more of his neck. "Heads, you lose," the con drawled, transforming his left servo into a freaking buzz-saw!

As the con went in for the kill, I could hear Miko screaming from somewhere nearby, the faint pound of feet signaling that she was probably rushing towards him.

" _No!_ "

But the killing blow never came. Instead, the sound of a new engine entered the fray, one I recognized, and that sound was then followed but the transformation of a familiar black truck.

"About damn time, Ironhide!" I called over, allowing my face to contort into a grin. I hadn't been kidding when I said that I called the first bot on my contacts list. "What took you so long?"

The mech transformed one of his servos into those awesome huge-ass cannons I had once seen. I was even more pleased to note that he towered over both Breakdown and Knockout, standing at about Ratchet's height. "Cork it femme! You try turning an hour long drive into a 10 minute one!" he grunted in his typical fashion.

 _To hell with you too_ , I thought with mental sarcasm, rolling my eyes in exasperation though I continued to smirk.

He then turned his gaze on the two gaping Decepticon's, _both cannons_ at the ready now. "Cowardly punk-aft Decepticon's. Who's first?"

However, that all stopped when the area took on a red glow and a sound like Ironhide's cannon's powering up under water issued from Bulkhead. Risking a glance over, I saw Miko, who was indeed by her guardian's head now, and a still downed Bulkhead whose optics shone red.

"Not again! Get down!" I heard Knockout shout, both con's diving to the side just as two red beams of light shot out of Bulkhead's optics, aiming heavenward.

Figuring that Ironhide had the situation covered better than I did since I didn't even have my batons on me, I rushed over to Miko's side.

Aside from being a little scared and obviously distraught because of her guardian's condition, she seemed to be alright and in one piece. However, I could hear her muttering brokenly to herself, "I did it again? Bulkhead?"

However, unlike last time, the mech didn't move.

"Squishy?" I heard 'hide call, nonverbally asking if Miko and I were alright.

"Yeah, just focus on the 'con's!" I retorted, a little frustrated that I could do nothing as I had no effective weapons on me except my brains and inherent ability to be an annoying bitch.

I could practically see the mech smirking. "Don't worry about that, fem."

Meanwhile, I could hear Knockout growling angrily. "Megatron will peel our paint for losing that data," he said.

"So we're gonna have to peel you," Breakdown finished.

 _Awe how cute. They even finish each other's sentences_.

However, before either side could make a move, a ground bridge portal opened up nearby and the rest of the Autobot's, excluding Ratchet of course, jumped out, weapons at the ready.

"Or peel out of here," I hear the con medic say as both transformed their servos to normal, racing towards a brick wall and making their own exit before reverting back to vehicle mode, doing just that.

Of course, Ironhide made sure to send a couple parting shots their way before the duo fully disappeared from view.

"Punks…" I heard him mutter angrily, as I walked over to him. I knew he wanted to chase after them. But, there was a lot of explaining that needed to be done, and I could already feel myself being crushed under the weight of the oncoming lecture.

So patting his ankle as a sort of silent thank you, we both turned towards the approaching Autobots, who were all regarding Ironhide warily, weapons at the ready. That is until they caught sight of his faction symbol and face; then all suspicion turned to shock and surprise as weapons were lowered.

Eventually, Prime was first to speak. "Ironhide?" he said in undisguised surprise.

For once in all of the time I had known the giant pain in the aft, Ironhide actually smiled a little though it was more of a small smirk. "Good ta see ya again, Prime," he said, stepping forward.

Taking note of the expression on my guardian's faceplates, you could tell that he really wanted to believe that the black mech standing before him was really his old friend. However, thanks to the events with the false Wheeljack, we all became a little more wary towards others because of it.

Mentally, I sighed. _It's now or never_.

Stepping forward, I couldn't help but rub my forehead in a show of exhaustion, determinedly not looking at my guardian as I said, "Optimus, it's really him. I checked."

Finally risking a glance up, I nearly cringed at the sight of the inscrutable look on my guardian's faceplates. Yep, I was most definitely doomed.

Thankfully though, everyone turned when the sound of Miko actually _crying_ reached the audials of all present. "Bulkhead…"

Sparing one glance for Ironhide and I, the Prime said, "We will deal with this later," before turning and walking over to where Bulkhead and Miko were. The former of which was still unresponsive.

* * *

—Base—

Just like the others, Ratchet had been quite surprised when a new bot had walked in along with the rest of the Autobots. However, that shock quickly turned to horror when he caught sight of Bulkhead's condition, immediately jumping into medic-mode.

Ironhide and I both stayed out of everyone's way, only keeping close enough to listen in. Neither of us spoke or were spoken too since our arrival on base.

"The data has been fully expelled," Ratchet finally said after running several diagnostic checks. "But Bulkhead remains completely unresponsive."

Miko, who had been mostly silent until now, preferring to stay glued to Bulkhead's side, finally spoke, finishing the medics sentence in an almost unnervingly calm voice. "Because the energy took Bulkhead's mind with it, heavenward, lost to the stars," she said, in what I thought was almost a poetic way. "It's my fault you'll never know the rest of the formula, and it's my fault Bulkhead's gone forever." There were definite tears staining her voice now.

There was a bout of silence before my bot finally spoke, sounding like he was trying to comfort the distraught girl. "Miko, your quick thinking prevented the formula from falling into Decepticon hands."

A small smile formed on my face at the words, but it was ruined by this odd pain in my heart, which did not abate even when I massaged the skin over the area. My lips curved downwards. What could it be?

"If anyone would have backed that play, it's Bulkhead," Arcee piped up.

Then Ratchet spoke up, adding in his own words of comfort and reigniting that old flame of hope that the forest green mech would be alright. "It's simply too early to know the extent of his condition. Something as simple as a familiar sight or smell, perhaps even a _sound_ , could trigger Bulkhead's awakening."

I may not have been able to see her, but I knew that the foreign girl had just gotten an idea. This was only proved to be true a couple minutes later when she was hooking her guitar up to the loudspeaker, said musical instrument in hand.

Watching, the girl then raised her right hand high in the air before bringing it down and strumming the guitar chord loudly before stopping completely, allowing the note to carry.

"Bulkhead?" she called, in a small voice as we all waited with bated breath for something to happen.

A moment later, there was a sound from Ratchet's monitors, followed by a groan from the big lug himself.

Then suddenly the mech jumped to life, sitting up as he imitated the sounds of a guitar. "I love that song!" he cheered before he turned, and his gaze landed on his charge. "Miko?"

In that moment, I allowed myself to smile a little as everyone else cheered and whooped happily at their comrade's recovery.

* * *

—Later, Optimus' Room, Optimus' POV—

Optimus Prime looked down at his charge with a disappointed frown. Despite having confirmed that the mech in the main room really was his old friend Ironhide and hearing the whole story of how he and Aria had met, he had still needed to pull his charge aside for a long talk about safety. "Aria, what you did was very foolish and dangerous," he said, taking the hard glare she shot him in stride as he continued to lecture her. The reckless femme needed to understand. "You should not have been so reckless. What if the cybertronian you had discovered was not an Autobot? What if he was a Decepticon? He could have killed you the instant—"

However, he was cut short when his charge finally reached her breaking point.

"I did it for you!" she exploded, before her grey optics widened, seemingly as shocked at her own outburst as he was. Torn between defiance and embarrassment, the golden-haired femme continued in a more carefully controlled tone, cheeks slowly beginning to redden as she spoke. "I did it for you alright?" she said softly. "I…I saw how hurt everyone was after that incident with the fake Wheeljack. All of you were so willing and happy to believe that there were more Autobots out there, alive and fighting the good fight. I didn't want you guys to get your hopes up only to get hurt again. You guys have been through enough hardship as it is, and I didn't want to see any of you go through that pain again." She then looked him directly in the optics. "Optimus, hope on this team is fragile enough as it is. I do not want you guys to break completely. So, if it means taking a risk and putting my own life in harm's way to protect you and the Autobot's from harm, then to me, there is only one logical choice left."

As he listened, Optimus' optics began to soften as he gazed down at the truly unique being before him, his spark humming slightly in approval and pride. Gently scooping her up, he brought her to optic-level as the femme finished speaking, gaze never straying from his. "You see? That's why I did it; that's why I kept him hidden from you all this time. I wanted prove that he was trustworthy before even mentioning his existence to you. So that none of you would get hurt."

"Oh…Aria," he rumbled softly, gently bringing their foreheads together like before. "You are truly one of a kind. And while I appreciate the gesture, I want you to promise me that you will _never_ do something like this again."

Placing one of her small servos on his cheek-plate, the human femme actually managed a small but noticeable smile, helm rubbing against his face slightly. "I promise, Optimus."

* * *

And there you have it folks! Miko and Aria nearly kill each other, and Ironhide joins Team Prime.

Now to those of you who are counting, including this chapter, there are only two chapters left to vote before the realization hits either Aria or Optimus first that they are in love with the other. Here is the tally so far.

—Aria: 7

—Optimus: 13

Again, don't forget that if you add a small explanation behind your vote, _**it will count as two votes**_ **.** So please review and add in your vote at the end. I do not care how impossible it seems. Don't forget: I am the author so if I want it to happen, then it will. And please if you guys have any ideas or suggestions, I am all ears. Your idea may not make it into the story because of a direction I may go with this piece, but I am willing to listen anyways. Who knows? Maybe I will even manage to incorporate it, though it might not be in the manner you were thinking.

Anyways, the **5-Review Policy** is in effect as usual, so please review if you want another chapter. You guys know the drill!


	26. The Wisdom of My Actions

This is it folks: the last chapter to vote! If you have no idea what I'm talking about, check the bottom of this chapter after you are done reading.

Nextly, I'd just like to make a shout out to **BarrelRacer1205** , **Steelcode** , **Estela prime** , **X Valkyrie Prime X** , **Guest (1)** , **bajy** , **Sfrizz5959** , **WolfAssassin369** , and those who followed and favorited. If I was a super religious person, I would say "May God bless you, and the Fates smile upon you". But I'm not, so please pat yourselves on the back and treat yourself to your favorite drink or something because you have earned the right to indulge a little for doing your good deed for the day. May the stars and Primus watch over you guys. XD

To **Guest (1)** : Ah the power of an author, right? Hahaha! Still, I understand your predicament and will tell you this: unless the urge to post a new chapter becomes unbearable, I will keep to my word and not post a chapter. I try my best to be honest and keep my word. Anyways, thank you for the compliment and have a nice day!

Also, there is a song in here which I have based off of the song "Hoist the Colors High" from _Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End_. The lyrics may have changed, but the cadence is still the same. So if you want to try singing along with the music, you now know what to look for.

Lastly, prepare for a nightmare after the song. I won't say much except brace yourself if you have an easily upset stomach and can't handle reading gore.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime or any other recognizable works in here.

* * *

 **Chapter 26: The Wisdom of My Actions**

—Aria's POV—

"…Altogether, a surprisingly decent patch job," Ratchet was saying as he inspected Ironhide's injuries, managing to shoot a deeply impressed look my way.

It had been several days since the whole incident with the data cylinder and Ironhide's reveal. In any case, after Bulkhead had been looked over to make sure he was fine, everyone had sat down and listened to the whole story about how Ironhide and I had met; we both had thankfully left out the events in New Orleans upon mutual silent agreement. In any case, I admitted to stealing a couple cubes of energon for the mech, but no one seemed to hold it against me. However, everyone (except the weapon's specialist) seemed to get a kick out of my 'Disney princess faint' comment when I described the dark mech's sudden collapse from loss of energon. That had then prompted one of our small spats which in turn had then gotten Ironhide to reveal his temporarily solid holoform when he decided to throw me over his shoulder when our argument became physical.

Which brings me to the here and now. After hearing about how injured Ironhide had been, Ratchet had insisted upon giving the Autobot weapon's specialist a checkup. I had come along at the medic's insistence because he had needed me to describe the extent of the damages, as well as what I had done to fix him up. Needless to say, the candy-cane colored mech was decently surprised with my work.

Shrugging, I did my best to appear nonchalant. "Well I do work as a mechanic. Plus, I'm on base a lot when you patch the others up, so I just learned what I could from watching you work."

The mech didn't say anything to that, going back to his work, but I got the impression that I had climbed a little higher on his list of those he respected.

"Hold on. What is this?"

I glanced up from my laptop again to see the medic holding a tiny—for them at least—device in between a pair of cybertronian-sized tweezers. It was about the size of a softball, but I had no clue as to what it did.

"It's the device Que built that is supposed to hide our signals from the Decepticons," Ironhide explained.

Scanning the device, the medic said in a light tone, "Is that so?"

 _Clang!_

I glanced up again to see Ironhide clutching the newly dented spot on his helm in pain with an angry, wrench-waving medic standing over him.

"Ironhide you blasted idiot!" he yelled. "Do you know how unstable that thing is?! It could have exploded and…"

I went back to work, clicking away at the keyboard in front of me, listening with a slight smirk as Ratchet proceeded to lecture Ironhide about safety. Apparently whoever this 'Que' mech was, no matter what he invented, he had an outstanding reputation for habitually making things go _boom_ , and it wasn't the 'take a needle to a large balloon' kind of explosion either.

* * *

—Later, Night, Aria's Mechanic's Shop—

I sighed, wanting to slam my forehead into the desk just to see if it would make me feel better.

It had been another tiring night of fighting. Tonight had turned out to be a bit of a no-holds spar, battle royale type of competition where it was basically everyone against everyone else. Usually, people would make temporary truces with others to get rid of the rest of the competition. However, as per the foundations of which the Dark Phoenix's reputation was built, I was all on my own…and I had won all the same.

 _Ping!_

Rubbing my face tiredly with a soft groan, I glanced at the computer screen, finding that a chat bubble had been opened.

 _ **Congrats on claiming victory once again Miss Nix. You are truly an exceptional fighter.**_ —Silas

I froze. How had he known? Had he been there? Why hadn't I seen him?

Carefully, I typed back a response, all exhaustion forgotten.

 _ **Thank you, but I doubt that this is a simply a social call?**_ —AshAngel13

 _ **You are correct. Did you get the information?**_ —Silas

Ever since I had signed on with Silas—and subsequently MECH—he had had me gathering information for him, as well as learning about potential business partners for him. It wasn't really that bad. But considering the company he kept—like drug lords, crime bosses, mobsters, thieves, skilled mercenaries, and up-and-coming warlords—it was more than a little worrying. Luckily, they hadn't asked anything outrageous of me _yet_.

 _ **Yes. Sergei has a factory in the Middle East, near the Qatar military base where he sells his dirty bombs and prototype weapons to the highest bidder. He only visits it once a month though, so you'll have to wait a couple days since his next visit isn't until Tuesday next week. However, a direct approach is not going to work. It sounds like you'll need to go through a middle-man of some kind first though to get to Sergei. He's very paranoid about his security; but it's what has kept him alive so long.**_ —AshAngel13

 _ **I see. Do you think he can be persuaded?**_ —Silas

I thought for a moment before replying, trying to recall all I had learned from the man I had met at the fights.

 _ **For the right price, maybe. But trust is another thing. I recommend offering some kind of deal with him to 'handle' a man named Anton Felipe, who has been giving him trouble for some time now as he runs a similar business. Trust me, if you're looking to get out from under one of those guys' thumbs, you go to the other. It has kind of made the rivals in more recent years.**_ —AshAngel13

 _ **I understand. I appreciate your insight. Now have you made any progress with your rather large friends, the Autobot's?**_ —Silas

My stomach clenched uncomfortably. This particular subject always filled me with dread. It was no secret to me that they were trying to build their own cybertronian robot. I was just lucky that they had been having trouble building it.

 _ **No. They think that humans are too 'primitive' to understand cybertronian biology. Plus, if I show too much interest, they will get suspicious. Your best bet is to talk to a Decepticon. One of them will help you if the partnership is beneficial to them, such as sticking it to the Autobots. However, it's better to find one that is not loyal to their head-honcho, Megatron, as he sees us humans as little more than insects.**_ —AshAngel13

 _ **I see. Do you by chance know of any rogue Decepticons then?**_ —Silas

I was about to reply that I didn't but then I stopped myself.

 _ **Not at the moment. However, there is one 'con that you might stand a chance with. His name is Starscream. He's a cowardly 'con; I will admit, but I do know, however, that he's not exactly loyal to Megatron either. Let's just say for now though that when presented with the chance to seize power, it isn't his first instinct to refuse. Knowing Megatron and Starscream's penchant for attempting to usurp him, Megatron will eventually get tired of the mech and try to terminate him or something if Starscream doesn't take the cowards route out and flee first. It wouldn't be the first time.**_ —AshAngel13

There was a pause before the man finally replied.

 _ **Very well then. As always, your contributions to our cause are greatly appreciated, Miss Nix. I look forward to the future to see what else you will bring to the table.**_ —Silas

I sighed, regret and uneasiness filling my stomach. _That makes one of us_.

* * *

—Next Day, Optimus' POV—

"What was that Rust-Bucket?"

"You heard me Squishy!"

"Yeah and I want to hear you say it again. This time to my face!"

"Are you calling me a coward?"

"Well if the boot fits…Then shove it up your ass!"

"Decepticon spy!"

"Cannons-for-brains!"

"Crazy femme!"

"Lumbering oaf!"

"Stupidly short!"

"Trigger happy!"

"Fleshy!"

"Tin can!"

"Will you two be quiet?!" Ratchet finally roared over the loud argument Ironhide and Aria were having.

Ever since Ironhide had arrived, he and Aria seemed to get into obnoxious arguments at least once a day. It took everyone awhile though before they realized that the duo _liked_ having their daily war of words, as proven by the smirks seen on both of their faces during each screaming match. However, sometimes the two got a little carried away, often dragging the team's medic into the fray…like now.

The cybertronian mech and the human femme exchanged a look, before Aria said mischievously, "Awe but Hatchet, we were just kidding aroun—eep!"

 _Clang!_

The girl managed to dive aside just in time to avoid the oncoming wrench.

"Don't call me that!" the medic snapped, gritting his denta and looking more than ready to throw another wrench.

"That almost took my head off you crazy mech!"

Optimus nearly smiled when the two-way argument turned into a three-way one. The expression, however, was only impeded by this odd twinge he felt in his spark. It was like he was angry, but he felt the urge to be protective too. The unknown feeling was…odd and made him want to pick up his charge and hide her away from the other two, growling at them to back off. He didn't understand where this was coming from, but it happened each time Aria was hanging around his old friends and especially when Ironhide used his holoform to roughhouse with his femme. But it only lessened when he was close to her, usually through direct contact and only fading entirely when there was no one around but the two of them.

Once or twice when the urge got unbearably overwhelming, Optimus did entertain the idea of going to Ratchet about this matter but only briefly. The medic had enough to do what with trying to finish the formula for synthetic energon, dealing with their meager supplies including their dwindling stores of energon, and working on the little project he had given the medic.

No, he could wait. Optimus wasn't dying, in extreme agony or experiencing any extremely alarming symptoms. The welfare of his team was first and foremost before his own as always…such as finding more energon for example.

He felt the weight settle in again. The burden only lessening when he glanced in his charge's direction and caught her eyes.

No, he could wait. He was perfectly fine.

* * *

—Two Day's Later, Aria's Mechanics Shop, Aria's POV—

"There you go Pietro, that should be it," I said, tossing the greying Italian his keys.

" _Grazie_. I don't know what I'd do without you, Aria. Really, I cannot thank you enough," the man said humbly, inclining his head. (Thank you)

For a native Italian speaker, he had a surprisingly good American accent. It was only when he slipped up on occasion, substituting in words and phrases from his first language, that one noticed how he spoke a little differently than most people.

I smirked mischievously at the man. "Please," I said sassily, "Letting me stay here and occasionally pretending to be my grandpop is more than enough."

His black eyes twinkled under the shade of his black fedora. "Anything for a _bella signorina_ ," he replied jokingly. (pretty young lady)

I rolled my eyes in exasperation, internally laughing at our banter. If it wasn't clear already, Pietro served as my landlord and acting grandfather on occasion. He has no idea what I really do.

" _Flirtare_ ," I snorted back in his homeland's language. (Flirt)

He chuckled softly, walking closer, cane clacking softly on the cement. "Still you are a gift, my dear. I mean, you are the only mechanic for _leagues_ I know that can properly fix up, restore, and paint a Lamborghini in record time," he said patting the scarlet vehicle's hood fondly.

"It's a gift," I replied, still smirking. Looking around, I located my semi-frozen water bottle on a nearby surface and snatched it up, unscrewing the lid.

"Anyways, when am I going to meet my lovely granddaughter's new boyfriend?" he asked, lips stretched wide in large smile.

I had just been taking a long draw from the plastic bottle when he said that and immediately began to choke. Eyes watering slightly as I coughed, wheezing and spluttering for air, I managed to get out an incredulous, "W-what?!"

The damn smirk on his face never faded, eyes twinkling mirthfully. "You know, the one who drives that red and blue semi I see here often. What was his name again?" he pondered aloud, tapping his chin slightly with the head of his cane. "Oh yes, Orion…Prime or something or other."

"We're not together, Pietro!" I spluttered, not sure if my face was heated from nearly choking to death or from embarrassment.

"Not yet you mean!" he laughed, climbing into his car, the windows rolled down. Then, as the engine roared to life, he called, "I expect a wedding invitation when he finally decides to pop the question!"

I didn't have a chance to retort after than because the elderly man was already speeding off, no doubt laughing all the way. Not that I could have because I was still processing his last words, mouth hanging open in shock.

"I am not in love with him!" I finally hollered to nobody in particular when I managed to gather my wits about me. "Damn old man…He's not even my real grandfather!"

Cheeks still flushed, I made sure to kick a nearby car jack on my way back into the garage, silently vowing to get the man back though knowing I never would.

* * *

—Later—

Later that day, I got a call from Optimus, requesting that I head to base immediately. I wouldn't have thought much of it except it was around 9:00 PM and I detected a note of worry in his voice as he requested that I bring my tools along as well.

Seriously, the unusual nature of the call disturbed me so much that I had all I needed packed in a bag and ready to go in under five minutes before gunning it out of there on my motorcycle like a bat out of hell. I could feel multiple questions wanting to break free, but I pushed them to the back of my mind, just focusing on getting there first before worrying about the 'how' and 'why'.

In retrospect, I should have counted myself lucky that I didn't run into any police along the way because they surely would have pulled me over for going twenty-five over the speed limit.

Still, I think I made pretty decent time, zipping through the tunnel to base before skidding to a stop right before Optimus' feet.

Yanking off my helmet, I immediately took note of the Prime's worried expression, which was only obscured by the overall serious mask he donned. Something was utterly amiss.

Jumping into his offered servo without question, I said in a serious tone, "How can I help?"

Walking towards the medical bay, my guardian gave me a summary of what had happened, describing how Ratchet had taken a dose of incomplete synthetic energon, and had essentially gone nuts. He was still explaining things to me when I finally got a good look at the injured medic, but I barely repressed a flinch at the severity of the wounds. The sight was more than enough to dreg up a few ghastly memories. Nevertheless, I got to work, asking for help when I didn't understand something but mostly focusing on fixing up Ratchet to the best of my abilities. Occasionally, I was more than ready to start cursing out the stupidity of the candy cane colored mech, but I had briefly noted that little Raf was present too, so I kept it to myself.

By the time Optimus was finished with his narration (with Raf throwing in his own bits too), Ratchet was out of the danger zone (at least in my opinion).

"It almost sounds like that stuff hindered his frontal lobe—the prefrontal cortex really—or whatever serves as the impulse control portion of his processor too." Everyone paused what they were doing, looking at me funny, and I ducked my head slightly in embarrassment. "Sorry, just something I picked up from my psychology class. Anyways, that part of the brain basically keeps you from acting upon whatever thought pops in your head."

"Do you think he'll be alright?" Raf asked from his position on one of the raised platforms, his voice small and worried like we all were.

I stood up from my position on the unconscious medic's chassis—a tube hooked up to one side of them—brushing a few errant strands of hair behind my ear. "Well I'm no certified cybertronian medic or doctor," I began, inspecting for any missed injuries but finding none. I glanced up and met the fearful brown eyes of the child genius, offering him a small smile like I sometimes did for my sister when she felt scared. "But I think he will live." I glanced at Optimus, who was standing nearby. "That should be it unless you see anything else I missed?"

His steps shaking things lightly, he came closer, picking me up and shaking his helm as he did so. "No, I think you did well."

I nearly smiled at that before turning back to Raf after glancing at my watch. "You better ask Bee to take you home kid, before your parents start to worry."

Still smiling in relief, the spiky-haired kid bobbed his head before turning and disappearing to do just that.

I shared a look with Optimus, but we both were cut off from saying anything when a soft groan was heard from the medic. Setting me on his large shoulder-plates, the big bot scooched closer to the slowly onlining mech.

"Easy old friend," Optimus said gently, placing a servo on the medic's shoulder as his optics onlined and he tried to sit up. "You lost a lot of energon. Good and bad."

I noticed how, since we were basically alone, the Prime smiled a little, if only faintly.

"I…I didn't intend to hurt anyone," Ratchet said remorsefully. "I just…wanted so… _badly_ to—"

"Help us," my mech finished with that soft smile that suited him so well. "We know. But you nearly caused the loss of something irreplaceable: our medic and a most trusted friend."

This time I really did allow myself to smile, not caring at all if Ratchet was in the room. How could I not? Optimus had a really damn good way with words.

The berth-confined bot seemed taken aback before, like he didn't expect such praise or something.

"You did lead us to a much-needed energon supply," Optimus continued, turning a little so that the medic could see the large stack of blue energon cubes the others were making. "And for that, we should all be thankful."

The red and white mech was quiet for a moment before he finally said, "The synthetic energon formula clearly needs refining before it can be tested again."

Optimus inclined his royal blue helm a little as the medic then added, "On machines, not Autobots."

"Let us take comfort in the fact that you were able to dispose of the quantity that remained," was all my bot said.

Seeming to take comfort in that statement, the medic closed his eyes and peacefully slipped back into recharge, no doubt exhausted and still running on low energon levels, despite the IV drip he had hooked up to him.

"Don't worry, Optimus," I eventually said, keeping my voice low. "I'll stay overnight to help keep an eye on him," I promised, winking in a roguish manner.

"Thank you, Aria," he said, that smile causing my heart to feel like it was racing for some odd reason.

* * *

—Later, Dream—

 _The large mine was dark, illuminated only by the feeble light the energon crystals gave off. The soft blue light made the scene quite enchanting if it wasn't for the soft, haunting melody that echoed throughout the entire place, accompanied by faint clinks._

 _ **Dark in the shadows**_

 _ **Where the light holds no sway**_

 _ **Here where the prospect is black**_

 _ **Deep in the earth, our freedom is dirt**_

 _ **Toiling our lives away**_

 _Wandering about the tunnels and large antechambers, the song grew louder, as did the many voices humming it._

 _ **Dig ho, all hands**_

 _ **Dig to your downfall**_

 _ **Heave ho, you wretched slaves**_

 _ **Heed your masters call**_

 _In one particular sector of the mine, several mech's were digging away at the soft, metallic earth. They had very little light to work by, but they did so anyway._

 _ **Now some have died**_

 _ **And some are alive**_

 _ **And others work with whips**_

 _ **With no keys to the cage**_

 _ **and Unicron to pay**_

 _ **We await the Well's call.**_

 _As the workers sang the lingering and evocative melody, their picks fell in rhythmic harmony, adding a sort of beat to the song as they worked._

 _ **Dig ho, work together**_

 _ **Dig to your downfall**_

 _ **Heave ho, you wretched slaves**_

 _ **Heed your masters call**_

 _One mech in particular, however, seemed different. While his dented and scratched frame was just as dully colored as the rest, he seemed to give off a different vibe. The others were sad, more defeated than him. They had already been broken._

 _He wasn't._

 _ **The axe has been raised**_

 _ **from its earthen grave**_

 _ **Hear its sepulchral tune?**_

 _ **We bear our share**_

 _ **Goodbye fresh air**_

 _ **Speak not of sunlight here**_

 _Slaves they may have all been, but he had hope for a better future. A flame of which burned brightly inside him, despite the crack and lash of his master's whip across his back. He didn't accept that this was his all life had allotted him._

 _ **Dig ho, work together**_

 _ **Dig to your downfall**_

 _ **Heave ho, you wretched slaves**_

 _ **Heed your masters call**_

 _But, the mech was not angry about his current position either, at least, not exactly. No that flame was mostly fueled by passion, a deep passion for what he believed in. The only real anger he felt was directed towards those whose action were unjust and unnecessarily cruel._

 _ **Dig ho, work together**_

 _ **Dig to your downfall**_

 _ **Heave ho, you wretched slaves**_

 _ **Heed your masters call**_

 _But he was determined to change that. He wanted to get rid of the infernal caste system and make it so that all bots were equal. He would make things better, even if it seemed like an impossible task._

 _ **Dig ho, work together**_

 _ **Dig to your downfall**_

 _ **Heave ho, you wretched slaves**_

 _ **Heed your masters call**_

 _But looking into those pale blue optics of his, you could tell that he would let nothing deter him._

 _ **Dark in the shadows**_

 _ **Where the light holds no sway**_

 _ **Here where the prospect is black**_

 _ **Deep in the earth, our freedom is dirt**_

 _ **Toiling our lives away.**_

 _He would change things for the better and have his freedom one day, no matter what._

 _Abruptly, the scene darkened to obscurity, and the pair of optics blinked out…only for a new set to open._

 _A pair of two different colored eyes glowed from out of the gloom. One was a neon green while the other was a golden yellow like a cat's and slightly larger than its twin._

 _Suddenly, I was shaking, but it wasn't from the cold. No, it was fear._

 _Overhead, a bright light flickered on, shining in my face, though it did not bring clarity to the owner of the eyes. However, it didn't matter. I didn't need to use my imagination to see that horrible, sadistic smile on his face that could only be described as pure insanity._

 _There was a cackle of laughter that stuck another chord of fear in my body. I tried to run but found I couldn't move. I tried to look down but still couldn't move. Every single part of my body was strapped down to a metal berth._

 _Still smiling that insane smile, he moved his lips like he was talking, but I couldn't hear anything beyond my frantic heartbeat._

 _And then I felt it: the sensation of a scalpel cutting into right arm._

 _I screamed._

 _Tears trickled down my face as I begged and cried out for it to stop, for someone to make the pain go away. It just hurt so much._

" _Stop please! Make it stop!" I cried in a shrill, harsh voice._

 _But he just kept going, slicing with surgical precision and humming the makings of a merry tune under his breath._

 _I wanted to be sick or pass out, but my stomach was empty, and he had made sure to see to it that I didn't miss a single thing._

" _Please! Stop! I'm begging you!" I continued to plead before screaming again as this time he took a cherry hot-red instrument and placed it against the bleeding area to cauterize the wound._

 _Ignoring me as I cried out, the man continued to cut chunks of my arm away with detailed precision. Tunneling straight through to the other side, he'd avoided major veins, arties, muscles and even bone, cutting away what wasn't absolutely necessary and cauterizing it with fire, much to my agony. He made sure that each piece he took away from me would not put me at a disadvantage as a whole, leaving my arm mutilated but intact and functional._

 _And through it all, I prayed for death. Fear was all-consuming, and pain drove me to the verge of insanity._

" _Stop it! Please stop it! I'll do anything! Please!" I begged, tears streaming down my face before screaming again as the man cut another piece of me away. "Stop—aaaAAHHHHHH!"_

Clapping a hand over my mouth to cut off the scream, I could feel my eyes watering as sweat glistened on my brow, breath coming in pants.

Taking in the darkened scenery of the Autobot base, my slate-grey eyes searched every shadow and blackened crevice before I finally pulled my hand away from my mouth, feeling my heartrate gradually decelerate. Swiping away slickened strands of hair from my clammy brow, I took a deep breath, relaxing my posture.

 _Damn, that was so real, too. I'm lucky no one heard me_ , I thought tiredly, swinging my legs off the couch. I sighed softly, hunched over. _I haven't had that dream in awhile_.

Knowing I probably wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep, I decided to get up, checking on Ratchet one last time before beginning to aimlessly wander base. Most of the bots were asleep—or in recharge as they called it—but when I went to check on Optimus, I found his door slightly open. It wasn't much mind you, but it was enough for a human to slip through. Curiously, I peeked my head in, only to find that the room was vacant, large metal berth devoid of any sleeping, red-and-blue titan.

Pulling out, I sighed, briefly noting how his room smelled stale and dusty and lacked any form of personal decoration, like my bot rarely slept in there or something. I wouldn't put it past him though, considering how much of a workaholic he is. That mech seriously needed to worry about himself more for a change.

In any case, something told me that I had better find my guardian. No doubt, he was probably brooding over something if he was up this early in the morning. So with a sigh, I headed towards the lift to the roof, figuring I would probably find him there.

And find him I did. The tall mech was standing at the edge of the mesa, staring out at the darkened landscape, glowing blue optics distant and unseeing. The situation was quite familiar to me, except our roles were seemingly reversed. Thanks to the racket the secondary lift made in the cool morning stillness, he probably already knew I was there, even if he didn't show it. So, being careful to not trip or make an unnecessary amount of noise, I trotted over to his side until I was level with right pede. However, I didn't say anything, opting to forgo the drawling statement of the obvious about him being up early. Optimus would speak when he was ready. So I elected to simply stand there beside him, staring out at the distance where the sun was soon to rise, and silently offering any form of comfort and support I could give him at the moment. After all, sometimes you just needed to be there for a friend. In a way though, it was almost ironic because I had learned this little tidbit from Optimus himself during all the times I had a lot on my mind.

In any event, it was just as a few delicate rays of sunlight began to peep over the horizon, that Optimus finally chose to spoke.

"You should be resting," he said softly.

"I could say the same to you," I retorted with equal softness, arms lightly folded over my chest and no note of accusation in my voice.

Silence. Then…

"Aria, do you think I am foolish?"

I glanced up at him with brows lightly furrowed and eyes narrowed, but he continued to stare out at the horizon. _Straight to the point then_.

Now, the question itself wasn't that unexpected to me. A couple times during the night, Ratchet had woken up and had had trouble falling back into recharge. So to pass the time, we had talked, and the medic had admitted to accusing Optimus of being too soft, essentially saying that the reason the war had gone on so long was Optimus' fault. It was something the medic had deeply regretted saying, along with several other things.

Anyways, I thought about the question good and hard, knowing the bot needed an honest answer.

Eventually, turning my gaze back to the horizon, I said, "I think that you have a rare point of view Optimus." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him turn his helm a little to look at me. "You choose to see the world not in blacks, whites, and greys, but as it could be, while still acknowledging the reality of things. Maybe that makes you a little idealistic and optimistic, naïve even and slightly passive, but not foolish. If anything, the world needs more beings like you."

He vented softly, rubbing his face in a very human-like show of irritation. "But Ratchet was correct. I did have multiple chances to stop Megatron before things escalated. But I did not; I held back."

I sighed, shaking my head and walking closer to him where I laid a hand on his ankle. "Because you are not Megatron, Optimus. Never have; never will be."

"You are wrong. I am—"

"Not I'm not," I interrupted with stubborn insistence. "You may think so, but you're wrong." I craned my neck until I met his optics. "Think back to each time you had a chance to offline Megatron. What stopped you? Was for the sake of a friend? Was it because your moral compass would not allow it? Or the fact that it went against what your cause stood for? Or was it because each time you simply felt that the Autobots were so mighty, that you arrogantly believed that you would never fall?" I said, purposefully adding a note of accusation to my tone as I spoke the last sentence, knowing it would never be true.

Watching his optics brighten, a wry smile made its way onto my features. "You see? You always have a good reason, doing things out of excessive personal loyalty and not for the desire for more power like Megatron. It's what makes you Optimus Prime because that's your fatal flaw."

Listening to the thoughtful silence, I turned my gaze back to the rising sun.

"There's this quote I remember hearing once by a man named Theodore Roosevelt," I said softly. "He said, 'It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.'"

All was silence after that, but I got the impression that I had at least given him some peace of mind.

Finally, though, Optimus said with a small smile, "When did you become so wise little one?"

"Wise?" I echoed with my own small smile before shaking my head. "No, I just learned how to think is all."

"Still, as always, you speak with a wisdom beyond your years Aria," he rumbled lowly before scooping me up as he said, "You are quite right though. I should not be doubting myself. Thank you for telling me this. Your words mean a great deal to me."

At the words, a faint blush formed on my cheeks, and my heart felt like it had leapt in joy.

"Good to know, cuz next time I'll start charging ya, Sangroyal," I joked causing that small smile of his to morph into the beginnings of an amused grin.

"One of these days you are going to have to tell me what that means."

"Maybe, but I think I'll keep it to myself for now." There was a slight mischievous quality to my smile.

"I will keep those things in mind then," he replied, beautiful blue optics returning to the horizon as we watched the sun rise, each of us sporting contented smiles.

* * *

Sorry, if I keep ending these chapters on a rather fluffy note. But I need to keep building on OP's and Aria's relationship; I don't really believe in love at first sight, only attraction at first sight and then eventual love.

Speaking of which, guess who is winning the "Realization of love first" poll? Don't know? Well here is the current standing:

—Optimus Prime: 17

—Aria Slade-Cage: 7

I will be honest with you guys because I was seriously not expecting this outcome. However, if you want to tip the scales, you know what to do: review and add a small explanation for two votes. **This is the last chapter this poll will be up before it closes when the next chapter is out.**

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed and will abide to my 5-Review Policy. You can consider it your good deed for the day. If that is not incentive enough, you should know that I will give a shout out to whoever is my 150th reviewer. The same can be said when we reach 200 reviews as well and so on.

Altogether, I hope you enjoy and continue to review, favorite and follow!


	27. The Storm Descends

This is it folks! The beginning of the end! (At least for season one). You have cast your votes (for those who decided to participate) and now here is the final results:

—Optimus Prime: 17

—Aria Slade-Cage: 7

 **Optimus has won** by a landslide! So in the next couple of chapters, you lovely people can look forward to Optimus realizing that he is in love with Aria first. Still, even if your side didn't win, I want to thank all those who participated in the poll and submitted their thoughts. It gave me a lot to think about as well as some new ideas.

Now on another note…

Congratulations to **Sakura9544** for being my 150th reviewer! Can you believe that?! Lucky you! Please do me a favor and go out to your favorite fast food restaurant or coffee shop or whatever and buy yourself your favorite drink. You have earned it!

The same can be said to **BarrelRacer1205** , **X Valkyrie Prime X** , **Sfrizz5959** , **avatarange** , **bajy** , **Ma-ki Ji-ez** , **Cinematronix** and those who favorited and followed. If you are broke, then at the very least give yourself a pat on the back!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime or any other recognizable works here. Now enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 27: The Storm Descends**

—Dream—

 _White dash lines across a black canvas whipped from the bottom of my vision upwards at a rapid pace. They were there and gone so fast; they were almost a blur. However, they slowly lengthened out as my view was titled upwards, revealing it to be a road._

 _With a clear starlit sky above and what could possibly be mountains in the distance, I found myself looking at a moonlit highway. On my left, street lamps entered my line of vision before fading into the distance all too quickly. I felt myself moving at incredible speeds, only I wasn't going forward. Rather, it felt as though I was in a car, looking out the back window._

 _Unexpectedly, I heard the rumble of a familiar engine and saw a pair of headlights catching up, two other pairs flanking it on either side. Soon enough, Optimus' vehicle form was there, driving in the middle of the road, racing along before me like he was trying to catch up. Bulkhead was on his left, and Bee's yellow and black form was on his right. Then suddenly, the scout sped up until his headlights nearly blinded me as he disappeared somewhere on my right. I thought he was going to hit me! Bulkhead's green form then did the same, lost somewhere on my left. Ironhide, Ratchet, and Arcee all did the same too, disappearing into either the left or right of my vision in an alternating pattern. However, it wasn't until the glow of Arcee's taillights faded to my left that I realized how close Optimus had gotten. All I could see of the mech was his grill._

 _And that's when it happened: there was the tell-tale sound of a cybertronian transformation, multiple in fact. But I was only focused on my mech's awe-inspiring shift as hundreds of parts and pieces broke apart and rearranged themselves as he whirled about. Soon enough all the Autobots stood before me, silhouetted against a large full moon, and their blue optics glowing. I noticed that there was even a single jet flying high, somewhere in the distance, but they were way too far away._

 _Then the moon's luminous glow became too bright, blinding me._

 _Squinting, it then faded until I was looking at the shining imprint of the Autobot symbol on the green monitors on base. As the camera zoomed out, I found that little Raf had been looking at them before he turned with a determined look in his brown eyes and ran for the railing of the platform, jumping over it and landing in the scout's servo as he transformed down around him. The flashy Camaro then zoomed past with a screech of tires and flash of headlights._

 _Then Miko and Bulkhead were shown, running, before the foreign girl skidded to a stop as her guardian transformed. It was like watching one of those stunt scenes from movies as Bulkheads rear swung about with a screech, and Miko jumped into his interior, the door closing behind her. He was now facing me; his engine revving before charging forward, once again blinding me with lights._

 _The next thing I knew; I was looking back at base from the swirling green of the ground bridge as Jack raced in. Behind him, Arcee dropped down behind him in a graceful movement. Her optics blazed as she ran forward, transforming into a motorcycle just as Jack pushed off from a random, nearby crate and landed on her seat. The duo then zoomed off into the swirling vortex of the ground bridge, disappearing from view._

 _Once again, light blinded me before I was viewing a dimly lit street alley. There was only one barely working street lamp, and it just barely illuminated the graffiti covered walls, garbage cans, trash, and the shadowed, but unconscious forms of several men lying on the ground. However, it was enough to see the figure standing directly under it._

 _It was a young woman. Her back was turned, and she was wearing ripped long jeans and a black backless tank-top that showed off a familiar phoenix tattoo. Sporting multiple scars both new and old, her long, golden-blonde hair was pulled back in a long braid, which was thrown over one shoulder. Suddenly, she turned her head so that she was looking behind her, at me, and I realized that it was me I was looking at. But this version of me was grinning like a shark, grey eyes flashing, and uncovered scars making her look terrifying as she held her short staffs in both hands, posture confident._

 _Looking at her, her image seemed to flicker. Sometimes showing a confident but heavily scarred young woman, and others showing me at different stages during my time on the street._

 _Suddenly, her expression changed, becoming fearful as she shrank and the scenery changed. Now there was a younger version of me, cowering in the darkened closet after my mother locked me in there. Unexpectedly though, it got brighter, like someone had just opened the closet. Looking up with large, fearful grey eyes, little me stared as a large servo was placed before her. I turned to see Optimus there, kneeling in a bright background, servo outstretched and offering a soft, almost loving smile to the terrified girl as if to say "Do not worry. You can trust me. I promise that no one will ever hurt you again."_

 _The little girl eyed him with apprehension, grey eyes flicking between the cybertronian hand and his face. Then with obvious hesitance but hope in her eyes, she slowly reached out and grasped one of the large digits with her own small hand. Optimus' smile grew, and little me did the same, steadily growing more confident. Then he pulled little me to her feet, and she aged again, becoming older once again._

 _Now she looked more like a current version of me but happier as she hugged Optimus around the neckcables. Both of us were smiling; we just looked so happy._

 _But then the sun brightened to blinding proportions, swallowing the scene, before dimming once again, this time to a purple hue which revealed itself to be the Decepticon insignia on Megatron's chest-plates._

 _Zooming out and backwards, the warlord was standing in an ominous landscape that had multiple pointed spires jutting out of the ground. Smoke covered various areas, and the entire scene was bathed in a blood-red light as Megatron thundered forward. Lifting up his arm, he began to charge his huge ion cannon, which made Ironhide's babies look insignificant. Then with a powerful blast of violet light, Starscream appeared from behind the large mech, rushing in and transforming as Megatron continued to shoot. My viewpoint followed the seeker, trailing behind and revealing a large battleground, the likes of which I had never seen before with the Autobots. Blaster fire seemed to come from every which direction, and countless fallen laid on the ground, wounded, dying, or already dead._

 _Suddenly, I was speeding past Starscream to the opposite side of the field where Optimus emerged from the smoke, faceguard engaged and servo's transformed into guns. A large explosion took place somewhere behind him, but the Prime kept battling his way forward like Megatron._

 _Finally, the two leaders met in the middle, drawing back their fists at the same time before they clashed with an almighty explosion of sound and light._

I jolted up in bed, still hearing the distant echoes of war ringing in my ears.

Falling back into my pillow with a soft sigh, I glanced at the clock on my nightstand and groaned. It was twelve-freaking-thirty in the morning! Primus why me?!

Slapping myself, it was a long while before I attempted to move again.

"Fuck my life."

* * *

—Next Day, Autobot Base—

Adding a bit more shading to the image, I carefully colored in the dark clouds and lightning to give the drawing more 'life' I guess you could say. It was already to the point where someone could have mistaken it for a photograph, but I needed to make sure that every detail was correct.

The dreams had been getting more frequent now of late. Where once I only remembered at least two a week, I was now plagued by them every time I went to sleep.

Now here I sat at base, drawing the grisly scenes I had remembered from the dreams in full, vivid detail. I couldn't bring myself to show them to the others, however. They didn't need that at the moment. And frankly, I wasn't sure what to make of them yet either.

But I could still remember each one as clear as day. All of them filled with the same, deep voice that seemed to be ancient beyond recognition and full of pure hate, loathing, spite, and a myriad of other negative feelings. And in the darkness of my mind, the voice just seemed to come from all around, causing small tremors of fear to go down my spine as it whispered things in my dreams. You won't ever get me to repeat the words it spoke because, frankly, it terrified me. But in that moment right before it woke up, I would remember seeing this great big pair of violet eyes, burning with such animosity that it felt like I was going to combust as horrible images assaulted me.

…And then I would wake up, covered in sweat and panting like I had just ran for my life. My entire body would shiver too, still feeling the icy fingers of fear caressing my skin, and my throat occasionally feeling raw like I had screamed in my sleep.

I was so glad Ironhide wasn't staying with me anymore because I don't think I could ever explain in words what I saw, let alone what I heard.

Which is why I did my best to get these vivid images out of my head now. It was like I had fleas or something; I just couldn't shake them off. All of this just gave me an extremely bad feeling. What did Gandalf say to Pippin in _Lord of the Rings_ the night before the Battle of Pelennor Plains? Oh yes. "It's the deep breath before the plunge." That was a perfect way to sum that feeling up. And the hobbit's comment afterwards of how he felt like he was waiting on the edge of a battle that he couldn't escape…Well I could relate to it about now.

Something was coming; I could feel it.

Adding one last stroke of violet to the image, I pulled back, taking in the dark skies, lightning, and active volcano which was spewing not lava but copious amounts of dark energon. Megatron was in it too, his optics glowing the same shade of violet as the vile type of energon as he held his blade over his helm in triumph. He looked like he was about to kill someone, and maybe he was. After all, in my dream, there had been something (or someone) pinned under his pede, though it had been too dark to make out.

Repressing the urge to shudder, I flipped the page to the previous drawing, which showed the planets aligning. But it wasn't just the ones in our solar system. Multiple galaxies and their planets were aligned the same way, with the end points being Cybertron and Earth, though how I knew that, I had no idea. The image didn't exactly show anything in great detail. I just somehow _knew_.

Frowning, I flipped the page once more to reveal what I though was the worst of them. Shrouded in darkness, a huge pair of violet-colored eyes shone from out of the gloom. They were such a pure shade of ominous violet it was like someone had taken the purest shard of dark energon and fashioned it into a pair of glowing purple eyes. Even if it was just a drawing, they seemed to burn with flames of pure malice. But that wasn't the worst part. No, by just looking at them, I could still hear that horrible, ancient voice speaking those two simple yet devastating words: " _ **I awaken**_."

Abruptly, I snapped the book shut, unable to look at the image any longer.

Trying to calm myself, I attuned my ears to what my guardian was saying, only to freeze when I recognized the words.

"…And it was written in the Covenant of Primus that when the forty-seven spheres align, a perpetual conflict will culminate upon a world forged from chaos, and the weak shall perish in the shadow of a rising darkness."

Unbidden, I paled.

Those words. I had heard them before. I had heard the exact same ones spoken in my dreams by an ancient voice that seemed to be full of power and knowledge.

Without even thinking, I listened as closely as possible, trying to not miss a single word.

"No skies raining fire?" Arcee asked sarcastically, peering at my guardian from the other side of the green monitors along with the rest of the Autobots.

"Goes without saying," Ratchet said with a shrug. "It is a doom prophecy, after all."

Meanwhile, Bulkhead scoffed in disbelief. "I say it's a load of hooey."

Probably opting to not comment on the peanut gallery's words, Ratchet turned to glance at the other two bots, "I'd always assumed the Ancients were referring to our home planet, but being that Cybertron has been dark for eons…"

"And considering what has befallen this planet since Megatron's arrival here…" Optimus said, taking over for the medic.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Bulkhead said, servos up in a 'stop everything and hold the phone' gesture. His optics were blown wide, betraying his disbelief and confusion. "We've known about these superstitions for ages and never gave them a second thought."

"Why all the ominous rumblings now?" Arcee piped in, seeming more skeptical than surprised.

Still, Optimus remained as Prime-ly as ever as he stated with a calm air of patience, "Because the planetary alignment to which the prophecy refers is nearly upon us."

From there, Ratchet stepped in, "And it would seem its end point…is Earth."

Everyone was quiet at that, processing the words that had just been brought to light.

"Uh, crazy coincidence, heh, r-right?" Bulkhead eventually said, chuckling nervously like this was some kind of joke.

Arcee however, got serious, jumping straight to the point as she stepped forward a little. "How long are we talking?"

"A few days at most," Ratchet said quietly. I could see he worried like us all about the days to come.

However, it was the Prime's next words that really topped off the 'bad days are ahead' vibe. "However unsettling this revelation may be," he began grimly, "I am more concerned about those who might believe that the prophecy speaks to them alone."

No one needed to say a thing after that. We all knew who he was referring to.

 _Megatron_.

* * *

—A Few Days Later, Night Before Doomsday—

Ever since hearing that conversation between the Autobots and hearing the prophecy, I had done the upmost to prepare myself, calling Izzy to make sure she was alright, checking in with my contacts about things, double checking to sure that arrangements were in place in the event of my death, etcetera. With any luck, should the worst happen, my baby sister would get all my money and just about everything, as well as be moved into the care of a responsible and loving family, and her college and high school funds would all be paid for when the time came. Not only that, but any information and evidence pertaining to any crimes I had investigated (or had been a part of) would be sent out to the proper law enforcement agencies and hopefully close multiple unsolved cases. There were a couple other things I had set up for other people I knew should I die, but that was a surprisingly long list. Still, I knew that I could leave this world with very few regrets.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. I wasn't dead yet, and I had no plans on kicking the bucket anytime soon. For now, I was content—if a little restless—with knowing that I was prepared as I would ever be for the coming storm.

Of course, that didn't mean I liked waiting for said storm to break.

"Pass…nuh-uh…Kid in a costume…Balloon…Nope…Uh, hold," I heard Jack say as he and the other kids crowded around Raf's laptop, trolling conspiracy websites for any actual cybertronian sightings.

At least they had something to do besides worrying. I was stuck sitting on my ass, twirling one of my short staffs haphazardly as I quietly brooded. I'm not sure if the bot's even told them about what was happening to be quite frank.

"The camera sure loves Bee," my baby bro said in amusement.

"What can you do? When you're a superstar, your paparazzi bait," Miko commented, flopping back like she owned the place.

Unseen by everyone else, I rolled my eyes at her before getting up and heading to where Optimus was working diligently at his own monitor. He looked like he could use some company.

I swear that mech has a sixth sense for when I'm coming because as soon as I was close enough, he reached down and scooped me up, placing me on his shoulder before going back to work.

Figuring that it was best to stick with silence, I made myself comfortable, leaning back until my spine was resting against the side of his head. As I closed my eyes and relaxed my posture, I thought back to that one dream where Optimus had held his hand out to the younger version of myself. I didn't realize it before now, but that moment was quite an apt description of our relationship.

Still, that last part, where we were both smiling…it made me wonder…

Suddenly, my eyes shot open, and I looked around, hearing an unfamiliar laugh. I turned my head a little to see the kids and Ironhide all looking at the medic, who looked a little shock and embarrassed himself. Did he just laugh? Apparently he had because the kids were all whispering among themselves while Ironhide showed no restraint and began chuckling at his friend's embarrassment.

I snickered a little myself, oddly happy that the medic felt comfortable enough to do that around us. It certainly wasn't a common sound here on base.

In any case, my guardian certainly seemed to share my opinion because he hummed a little in approval.

However, that was cut short when, Jack called over to him, causing the mech to stiffen slightly underneath me. "Um, Optimus, do you want to see something funny?"

"No," my guardian said, his optics never once leaving the screen in front of him.

He said it in a such a deadpanned way that I had to laugh a little; I didn't notice how his blue optics briefly glanced my way at the muffled sound, brightening a little.

"Don't take it personally," I heard Arcee say with a wry look on her face, no doubt amused by the familiarity of my Prime's actions. "Primes are built that way."

"Never seen Optimus laugh, cry, or lose his cool," Bulkhead added his two cents in, making me frown.

They made him sound so robotic, like he didn't have any emotions at all.

Ratchet and Ironhide seemed to agree because they both shared a look, the medic speaking first. "While Optimus certainly keeps his emotions in check, Ironhide and I have known him far longer than any of you have," he said before the weapons specialist took over.

"Yeah, and he was different before he was made a Prime," the dark mech grunted, as per his usual way, with a small smirk in our direction, before focusing back on tinkering with his cannons.

Leaning back once again with my eyes closed, I feigned sleep, while in reality listening closely. I may have known quite a bit about it already, but it never hurt to hear the other side of the story. Nevertheless, I felt Optimus shift a little at the topic. He didn't look at the others, but I could tell that this topic of conversation was a little…iffy for him, just like my past was for me.

"Optimus wasn't always a Prime?" Raf piped up curiously.

"On Cybertron, one isn't born into greatness," Ratchet began, before saying proudly, "Rather, one must _earn_ it."

I smiled a little at his words, though I still felt bad for my Prime. They were all talking about him as if he wasn't there or couldn't hear them. Really, if they wanted to know anything, they could have just asked the Prime himself.

Miko, on the other hand, was obviously getting bored as she said, "So, different how? We talkin' party animal?"

Quietly, I snorted with no small amount of derision.

Seriously, that girl must have been dropped on her head as a baby.

"Nah, Optimus was more like Jack…and maybe Aria when she behaves," Ironhide said, purposefully goading me no doubt.

I didn't rise to meet the jab. I just merely made a mental note to later revenge prank the weapon's specialist. Pink glitter paint and a frilly pink tutu were sounding pretty tempting right now, along with some girly girl bumper stickers and exploding glitter-paint-filled ammo. Yeah, that sounded perfect.

"What? I'm nothing like Opt—" Jack was in the middle of denying that he my guardian were anything alike when lo and behold, guess who called?

"Prime!" the agent of foulness said from his end of the screen chat. "Those tech heists my department's been tracking, we figured it was MECH on account of the stealth tactics until moments ago when a security feed at the Pennington Ebbs Particle Collider captured this."

Sitting up, my grey eyes narrowed on the image of a familiar slender, faceless Decepticon that appeared on the next screen over. The image resolution wasn't great, but he looked to be holding something.

"Soundwave," Jack and I unknowingly said in unison, though mine came out as more of a low growl.

"Raf can swap that out for you with a funny cat," Miko jumped in, still trying to milk the fact that they had made Ratchet laugh. She didn't seem to understand the concept that there was a time and place for everything.

Continuing on as if there had been no interruption, Fowler said seriously, "The 'Con without a face made off with a cutting-edge phase conductor. Here's a punch list of everything else we've confirmed stolen to date."

On the far right screen, said list appeared, and my frown deepened when I saw what was on it.

"Plasma injector…neutron shield… _tesseract_?" Ratchet read aloud, a disturbed look entering his optics. "There's only one thing missing if they are intending to build—"

"Another space bridge," I finished for him in a deadly serious tone that could probably cut through just about anything. My brows furrowed, face set in a deep frown as I glanced at Optimus out of the corner of my eye.

 _It looks like this storm is finally starting to break. I just hope we're all ready for this shit show when it really kicks off_.

* * *

—Next Day, Prophesized Doomsday—

Despite her willingness to be prepared for whatever went down, Aria found herself in an unusual… situation the next day.

"Are you sure you guys want me along?" she asked once again, still not sure what to think about all this. "I mean, this is your guys' time together. I don't want to ruin it or anything."

Bumblebee's radio beeped in amusement as he sped down the empty road, seatbelt tightening a little like he was trying to hug her or something. Meanwhile, Raf just smiled, hugging his little R/C car—which looked like Bumblebee—close as he said, "Don't worry Aria. We wanted to bring you along. This'll be fun. Trust me."

Pale pink lips curved in a poor imitation of a bemused smile as grey eyes danced like the northern lights.

She still didn't know how the duo had done it, but they had somehow convinced Aria to tag along and go racing with them for whatever reason. Seriously, this just confused the hell out of her. People at school essentially hated Aria, whether it was from a vendetta or fear. The same could be said when she was out of Jasper (though it was mostly fear she was regarded with). But here little Rafael and Bumblebee were, taking her along to go racing.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I'm just not used to this kind of thing. Are you sure no one put you guys up to this?"

:{ _Aria, it's fine! Chill out already. It's like Raf said; we_ _ **wanted**_ _to do this._ }: Bee scolded, causing her bemusement to grow.

She raised a golden brow, which glinted a little in the subdued sunlight. "Why?"

"Because we want to get to know you!" the spiky-haired kid piped in.

:{ _Yeah, you're always so quiet and always hanging around Optimus a lot, and we just realized that we barely know you._ }:

"We know more about Agent Fowler than we do about you," Raf summed up with a smile, making a pretty good point.

Aria made an amused sound, managing to smile wryly. "Well there's not really much to tell: I'm an independent young woman, I can rumble with the best of 'em, don't have much of a tolerance level for stupidness, and I am sarcastic as Pit."

Raf rolled his brown eyes. "Duh. Everyone at school knows that. I meant like…what are your likes and dislikes?"

"Now that's just too personal. You've crossed a line," she said with joking seriousness, causing both boys to fall silent before they began to laugh a little when they realized that she was only kidding.

This time, the golden-haired girl really did smile slightly, enjoying their youthful energy like she would with Isabelle.

"Well let's see," she said, deciding to humor him as she tapped her scarred chin in a thoughtful manner. "I like reading, quiet environments, making fun of Knockout and messing up his paintjob."

The boys both laughed at that last one.

"My dislikes?" she frowned a little, before listing off several things with her fingers. "Well I dislike being shot at and all guns in general, cowardice and those that take advantage of others, disloyalty sexist pigs like those guys at school, my AP Lit teacher, and Miko's penchant for all around stupidity." Aria paused, noticing how many fingers she had up. "Wow, there is a lot I don't like."

Raf just smiled, and Bumblebee did too, though you couldn't see it. But before either of them could say anything, Bee's comm. link buzzed to life.

-{ **Bumblebee, the team may require backup. They are three clicks north from your current position, just off the highway. If you drop Raf and Aria off at the exit ramp, I can bridge them back to base from there.** }-

:{ _Alright. I'm on my way._ }: the scout buzzed sadly. :{ _Sorry Raf, Aria, looks like duty calls._ }:

He seemed more put out than Raf was about this setback.

"It's okay, Bee," the kid said, maturely acknowledging the situation better than _some people_ (*cough* *cough* Miko *cough* *cough*) I know. "We'll go racing another time."

Aria smirked and nodded, an odd, knowledgeable look entering her grey eyes. "Yeah, maybe then we could race for real, me and my Charger against you two. Whaddya say Yellow Jacket?"

:{ _Oh it's on, Slade!_ }:

They all shared a chuckle at that, having no idea that danger was looming just overhead, about to descend…and there was nothing to be done until it was too late.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

The first thing that keyed me into the fact that something was wrong was the roar of an another engine, coming from overhead. The second was the overall bad feeling that pooled into my stomach like icy water over hot-cocoa.

Trusting my instincts, for they had never led me astray yet, I glanced in one of Bumblebee's rear-view's just in time to see an all too familiar alien jet fire a purple blast of light at us.

"Bee—!" I tried to call, but my warning was cut short as the blast hit us, sending the mech skidding. The last thing I saw before the overwhelming surge of energy caused me to blackout—was amethyst colored light arcing everywhere and a sickly looking Raf passed out next to me.

 _Optimus_ … _help._

* * *

—Optimus Prime's POV—

Pounding another unlucky vehicon soldier into the ground, the Prime only had scant seconds to look around at the burning battlefield before a new challenger tried to take him. Nearby, he could hear the clashes of metal as his valiant Autobots fought back the Decepticon's. However, even though things were starting to look up for them, he suddenly got this terrible feeling in his spark.

Blasting his opponent away, he glanced around the smoking area, left servo transformed into a blaster while the other was in blade form. He could hear the sound of jet, a familiar jet at that, heading their way. Turning, he watched with a hidden frown as Megatron landed nearby, dust rising from the impact.

Transforming his right servo back, he briefly touched his chassis, playing it off as moving into a ready-stance, while quietly wondering at the foreboding feeling in his spark. Something was terribly amiss.

"Optimus," the warlord hissed, triumphant smirk in place.

"Megatron," he rumbled, optics narrowed on his former friend. "Do you not see the folly in trying to force a prophecy to fruition?"

"Why leave matters to fate if one can forge one's own destiny?" he retorted, cold smile never leaving his heavily scarred faceplates. Then his optics shifted to look at something behind the Autobots; that pleased smile only growing. "Ah, speaking of fate…"

Almost fearing what he would see, Optimus and the other's behind him turned to see Bumblebee walking up. Only, he seemed to be carrying something, _two_ something's in fact. And judging by the scout's posture, how his doorwings sagged sadly like a praxians' or seekers' wings would, whatever he was holding was not going to be good news.

Still, as the yellow mech came closer and Optimus finally got a good look at what he was holding, the Prime swore his spark stopped.

Clutched in the careful servos of the Autobot scout like sparklings, lay the comatose forms of Aria and little Raf. But they looked so sickly, so still, so… _dead_.

 _Primus, no…_ he thought in horror, wide optics, never leaving the still form of his charge. _Please no. Don't tell me she's dead. Don't tell me she's gone. Don't tell me that I've…failed. Oh Aria_.

"Raf!" Arcee called out at the same time Ironhide shouted, "Aria!"

The two rushed over, picking up the humans gently.

"They're both breathing," the femme eventually said, making eye contact with Optimus. "Barely."

Normally, that news should have made him feel better, but it didn't. The Prime couldn't help but feel like he had failed somehow. He was supposed to be there to protect her and keep Aria safe from all harm, but he hadn't. And now she could possibly be dying.

The lead Decepticon chuckled sinisterly, drawing attention back to himself. "Ah, it would seem I swatted a Bee and squashed a bug or two."

:{ _You…_ }: the scout buzzed angrily, aiming his weapons directly at Megatron now that his servo's were free.

"Bee, no!" Bulkhead said, rushing over to try and restrain the enraged mech.

:{ _You fragging hurt Raf and Aria!_ }:

Feeling mutual rage coiling up inside him, Optimus turned to glare at Megatron, who chuckled a little, smiling widely as he cocked his helm in challenge a little. The gunmetal grey mech probably knew all too well how close he and Aria were no doubt.

"Ratchet, bridge us back now," he finally growled into his communications link, dearly wishing he could crush the warlord's spark in his servo right about now. As soon as the portal was opened, he rumbled, "Arcee, Ironhide, attend to Rafael, Aria and Bumblebee."

* * *

—Ratchet's POV—

When he heard Optimus call for a ground bridge, Ratchet honestly feared the worst, thinking that an Autobot had been gravely injured. As it turned out, he was half right. Someone had been injured, just not an Autobot.

"Raf?"

"Aria?!"

Miko and Jack cried out as Ratchet gaped in horror, seeing the deathly pale humans who were held in Arcee's and Ironhide's grips respectively.

"What happened?" he demanded, rushing over.

"Megatron." The blue femme snapped out the name like it was acid on her glossa.

"Quickly, into my laboratory," he ushered, going into medic mode. Hooking up the two morbidly still humans to hear rate monitors, before backing away when he realized that he didn't know what to so next.

"They aren't responding," he said to himself. "We must run diagnostics of their assemblage– eh, vital statistics." He looked down. "Oh, my tools– they're all wrong!" Ratchet growled, not even caring as he sent them flying in his rage. He hated this feeling, of standing by, unable to do anything to help while others were _dying_.

Bumblebee buzzed sadly, saying something the medic didn't catch.

"We need to call my mom," Jack suddenly said, whipping out his cellular device.

The CMO looked at him incredulously. "Your mother may be a nurse, but does she know anything about the effects of energon on the human body?" he snapped.

"Wh— Do _you_ know anything about the human body?" the dark-haired mech retorted with as much venom, causing the medic to back off.

When he didn't further try to respond, Jack turned away, pressing the dial button. "Mom, it's urgent!"

Guilt and fear almost driving him to the edge of insanity, the ill-equipped medic spared a glance for the two lives that he seemed unable to save. Then as if to as further misery and gloom to the situation, a line from the prophecy came back to him. "'The weak will perish.' Be strong, you two, _please_."

He didn't want to imagine how the rest of the team would feel if Rafael and Aria didn't make it. Optimus especially would be devastated considering how close he was to the human femme.

The medic shook his helm. No, he hoped and prayed to Primus that the two humans would make it through this. _They had to_.

* * *

—Aria's POV, Dream—

" _Where…Where am I?" I called, voice still holding notes of youth amid all the terror. I had just woken up with no idea where I was and how I got there._

" _Now, now my dear," a man's wheezy, giggly voice said somewhere to my right._

 _Looking around, a pair of mismatched eyes glowed from out of the gloom. One was a neon green while the other was a golden yellow like a cat's and slightly larger than its twin. And just below them, I could barely make out a wide, almost insane-looking, smile._

 _Tremors ran down my spine as I tried to move but failed, panic growing as I realized that I was strapped down to a metal slab. My breath came in fast-paced pants as my eyes darted all around, looking for an escape._

" _Now, now. No need to get so worked up. We've only just begun," the unknown man said gleefully, snickering some more. "And all that pointless struggling is doing is making me more excited._

 _Overhead, a bright light shone in my face, sort of like a derelict imitation of those lamps you see at the dentists', though it did not bring clarity to the owner of the eyes. However, it didn't matter. Or rather, I didn't much care as I continued to struggle fruitlessly._

 _I didn't need to use my imagination to see that horrible, sadistic smile on his face that could only be described as pure insanity._

 _The man let out a cackle of laughter that could only be described as the sound of pure insanity, striking another chord of fear in my body._

 _Still smiling that insane smile as my heart beat frantically I my chest, he said, "Now be a good girl and stop struggling, this is only going to hurt…a lot." There was more mad laughter before I finally felt it: the sensation of a scalpel cutting into right arm._

 _I screamed._

 _Tears trickled down my face as I begged and cried out for it to stop, for someone to make the pain go away. It just hurt so much._

" _Stop please! Make it stop!" I cried in a shrill, hoarse voice._

 _But he just kept going, slicing with surgical precision and humming the makings of a merry tune under his breath._

 _I wanted to be sick or pass out, but my stomach was empty, and I think he had made sure to see to it that I didn't miss a single thing._

" _Please! Stop! I'm begging you!" I continued to plead before screaming again as this time he took a cherry hot-red instrument and placed it against the bleeding area to cauterize the wound._

" _Yes keep screaming, it makes it all the more exciting for me."_

 _Ignoring me as I cried out, the man continued to cut chunks of my arm away with detailed precision. Tunneling straight through to the other side, he'd avoided major veins, arties, muscles and even bone like a pro, cutting away what wasn't absolutely necessary and cauterizing it with fire, much to my agony. He made sure that each piece he took away from me would not put me at a disadvantage as a whole, leaving my arm mutilated but intact and functional._

 _And through it all, I prayed for death. Fear was all-consuming, and pain drove me to the verge of insanity._

" _Stop it! Please stop it! I'll do anything! Please!" I begged, tears streaming down my face before screaming again as the man cut another piece of me away. "Stop—aaaAAHHHHHH!"_

 _Eventually, after what felt like hours, I finally did pass out, from both blood loss and utter fear._

 _The next thing I knew; I woke up in some random city alley, sprawled out on the cement. Glancing down, I gagged when I saw I was still covered in blood. Then I looked at my arm, and all hopes I had that this was just a dream flew out the window. My arm was…_ mutilated _almost beyond recognition. It had a freaking_ hole _through it for Pete's sake! I could probably stick a pencil straight through it to the other side no problem!_

 _Gaping at it, the urge to puke again became all too great, and I started dry-heaving again, internally panicking. Somehow, after several minutes of that, I managed to get to my feet (painfully) and began to practically dragging myself through a city alleyway, trying to make it back to where Azriel, Sarakiel, and I were staying._

 _She didn't know how she escaped, or how she made it this far. But she felt so out of it that she didn't stop to care. All the while though, black spots danced in her vision, threatening to take over should she even dare to stop. Still, despite all the pain and the tears, I pushed on. I needed to get to safety. Azriel and Sarakiel both would help; they were safety here on the streets; they would know what to do._

 _Swaying like a drunken man, I stumbled through the blackness of the city night, barely able to make out signs and markers in the haze of black clouding my vision. Somehow though, I managed to find myself in the abandoned building the two men and I were using as shelter._

 _A fire was going and I could hear them talking about me in worried tones. Knowing I was going to crash soon, I staggered in._

" _Sa…ra…kiel…Az…riel…Help," I gurgled before at last passing the fuck out._

 _The last thing I heard before giving into oblivion was Sarakiel cursing colorfully as Azriel shouted my name, saying something about getting me to a hospital and ordering me to stay awake._

…

"… _-he's…"_

"…"

"… _-o!…"_

"…"

 _Drifting in and out of consciousness, I felt like I was in a boat out on the ocean, rocking upon the sea. Sometimes, I would occasionally catch snippets of conversation or parts of words, but I would always find myself being dragged back under into the waters of oblivion_.

"… _sh…-ake up?…"_

"… _don't…too soon…tell…"_

 _Sometimes the voices sounded familiar; sometimes they didn't._

"… _what…-id…to…-er?…"_

" _They…pro…-cisions….only…doctors…-able…that…work…"_

"… _lucky to be alive."_

"…"

" _Please stay strong."_

 _Five days after the incident, I woke up and made sure to scream bloody murder when I found myself in a hospital, only shutting up when Sarakiel and Azriel finally came and calmed me down._

 _I would never be the same again after that, physically or_ _ **mentally**_ _._

* * *

—Ratchet's POV—

Watching as the human nurse worked feverishly to get the ill humans to a more desirable state, he once more wished that he could _do_ _ **something**_. He hated this feeling of being helpless. All he could do was watch, a loathsome and undesirable action for a doctor such as him. It went against his nature and the oath he took up as a doctor to help those in need.

And Primus was it painful to do _nothing_.

While young Rafael had been slowly declining, gruff Aria's health had been all over the place. In one moment, her heart rate would beat only a couple times per minute. In the next, it would skyrocket beyond its healthy max of 202 beats per minute. Her temperature would be on and off too, becoming feverish one second and then ice cold the next. It worried everyone. Several times, the others had had to restrain the thrashing girl to keep her from hurting herself, which often made her heartrate and temperature rise steeply once again.

Thankfully, Nurse Darby seemed to have it under control, and Aria was once again resting silently, though she retained that same sickly pallor like she was on the verge of death.

-{ **Ratchet, how are Rafael and Aria?** }- came Optimus' voice through the comm. link. He sounded justly worried as he should have been.

Ratchet vented, shaking his helm, though the action was unseen by the mech on the other side of the call. "It is too soon to know."

-{ **They are in good hands.** }- his longtime friend soothed.

Ratchet nearly scoffed at that. "Not mine, Optimus. Curse my cybertronian pride," he said, servos clenching in frustration as he glanced back at the desperate situation behind him. He could feel shame coursing through his entire frame. "We've accepted these humans into our lives, yet I bothered to learn so little of their science or medicine."

-{ **Pull yourself together, old friend. Rafael and Aria need you.** }-

"And I have grown to need them," the medic murmured solemnly, shuttering his optics for a moment.

 _Please stay strong you two._

* * *

—Aria's POV, Dream—

 _Standing planet-side, I found myself looking out at a dead Cybertron from a considerable height, like I was on a cliff or something. The sky was overcast, and dark, creating a mournful scene with the help of the ruined cities in the distance. The sight made you wonder, consider really, just how many lives had been lost in the war. How many had been ruined and torn asunder?_

" _Too many to count and far more to come I fear," rumbled a deep voice somewhere behind me._

 _Jumping, I whirled around but found no one there. The ledge was empty._

 _After several moments of silence, I turned back to the heartbreaking scene before me, a melancholy look in my eyes as I began to relax. It was probably just my imagination._

" _Sad is it not?" the voice asked again, tone mournful._

 _I whirled around again, but I once again found nothing out of the ordinary, just metallic, rock-like formations. Suddenly, I froze. My eyes narrowed on a spot a little to my left. Did that just move?_

" _Show yourself," I demanded, posture tensed and ready for attack. I could feel a pair of eyes watching me. I just didn't know from where. Then I glanced up, craning my neck backwards in what would quickly become an uncomfortable angle._

" _Greetings young phoenix," the ginormous metallic giant greeted, with a smile that could have swallowed me whole but instead made me feel oddly warm, happy even._

 _Mutely, I glanced down and realized for the first time that I wasn't standing on a cybertronian cliff at all. I was actually standing in the colossus' hand._

" _Do not be frightened little one," he soothed when I did not speak, frozen like an ice sculpture. The mere sound of his voice seemed to bring just a little light and warmth back to this dead world. "I merely wished to speak to you. Will you so grant me the honor of listening to what I have to say?"_

 _Temporarily rendered speechless, I managed a meek nod as I gawked up at the large being._

 _He chuckled a little, the warm sound making me feel like my entire body was glowing in jubilation despite that it made him, along with me, vibrate a little._

" _Now do you know what is going on, little phoenix? Right now in the real world?" he asked gently, in a tone I imagine that fathers would use to explain vast concepts or wary subjects to their daughters. I wouldn't know; my father wasn't prime parental material like my mother. On the other hand, his tone reminded me of Raoul a little._

 _Still mute in my shock and awe, I shook my head._

 _He hummed a little, gentle smile never leaving his features. "I see. What is the last thing you recall then? Please do not rush yourself; take your time."_

 _Normally, when someone ordered me to do something for them, they were met with stubborn defiance, sheer bullheadedness and active suspicion. But just standing in the titan's presence, let alone being so close to him, it made me almost strangely compliant, though that may have been partially due to that piercing gaze of his that seemed to peer into very soul._

 _Breathing soundlessly, I sat down, cross-legged in his servo, as I closed my eyes and tried to remember._

" _I remember… base…the Autobot's…a- a prophecy…" I opened my eyes and met the being's color-changing optics. "Optimus Prime."_

 _Continuing to smile, his optics seemed to brighten as he nodded, giving me a 'go-on' gesture._

 _Fining myself smiling too, I nodded as my eyes slid closed once more. "I was getting ready for something. He said something about the planets aligning and…chaos? Then Raf and Bee…they asked me to go racing…Megatron…" My eyes shot open wide, panic filling me. "Megatron attacked us. Bee and Raf! Are they alright?"_

 _Chuckling fondly, he smiled in a melancholy way, seemingly a little amused, though I don't know why. "Despite that seemingly uncaring façade you assume, you are always concerned about the welfare of others before your own. I expected nothing less."_

 _Despite the fact that he was ridiculously larger than I was, my stubbornly imploring expression did not waver._

 _Sighing with a sound like wind through a metal tunnel, he looked downtrodden for the first time. "The little scout is fine, but your human friend is not, as you humans would say, 'out of the woods just yet'." He inclined his great helm towards me, metal lips stretched in a grim line. "The same could be said for you as well, young one. You are both teetering on the edge of a knife, balancing between the abyss of the rising darkness and the light of life."_

 _Taking his other larger than Optimus Prime sized servo, he gently prodded me in the chest._

" _Which is why I appear to you now, little warrioress," he said. "Events have been set into motion the likes of which none of you can hope to comprehend just yet."_

 _I regarded him carefully. "This has something to do with the planets aligning and the 'rising darkness' that the prophecy speaks of. Doesn't it?"_

 _He nodded solemnly, unique and beautiful optics darkening a little. "I had hoped that this would never come to pass. That none of my descendants would have to face this evil in any of their lifetimes." He sighed softly, rubbing his forehelm in a very human-like show of emotion. "But it seems that the tides of time were against me. And now my responsibility must pass into the hands of another."_

 _Watching this great being visibly regret what he could not undo himself, it reminded me of something, or rather_ someone _in particular._

 _Eventually, he returned his attention back on me, optics gravely serious. "I have an important task for you, young phoenix, if you will accept."_

" _What is it?" I pried, knowing better than to accept any deal right away before hearing the stakes._

 _The being shook his helm. "Alas, I cannot tell you unless you accept."_

" _And if I choose not to?" I enquired, watching him carefully._

" _Then the task will fall to another," he answered, smiling in that melancholy way. Then his optics brightened, and he looked at me in a different way, like he had had an idea and was weighing the risk on whether to tell me or not. Finally, though, he decided to say something, it seemed. "Perhaps a glimpse of current events will help you decide."_

 _Taking the servo which did not hold me, he drew a circle in the air, smoke trailing after his index digit. Soon enough, a window flickered into existence, and I found myself watching as a battle primed Optimus Prime stormed through the halls of the Nemesis. I would have smiled at the scene, except something seemed…off about my beloved guardian. His blue optics seemed to blaze with a new, more dangerous fire as he cut through any vehicon's who stood in his way. It was as if something had angered him to the point of no return, and there really would be no return if he went through with whatever he was planning._

" _You affect him a great deal more than you know," the being, whose name I still did not know, said ominously._

" _What's wrong with him? He looks like he's going to kill someone." And he really did as he remorselessly cut aside vehicon's without a second glance. Had I been wrong about him not being like—? I shook my head, cutting off the thought. No, he was still my Optimus. I refused to believe anything else._

 _In any case, the being said nothing as he continued to watch the scene play out before us; so I took the hint and continued to watch too._

 _Then suddenly, I could hear his voice. It was distant and a little off-sounding like I was hearing it through the speakers on one of those dinosaur televisions, but I knew it was his voice regardless. However, the odd thing was; he didn't seem to be speaking at all. After hanging around him so long, I knew that usually when he spoke, his optic ridges would move a little as well as his optics themselves, brightening and darkening a little. The tempo of his speech didn't seem to change as he fought either. It was almost as though I was hearing his thoughts or something._

"I have been foolish not to see what history has proven over and over again– that Autobots and Decepticons will never mend their ways. If there can be no diplomatic solution to this… **perpetual** conflict, then I must not allow more darkness to fall upon this or any planet. Megatron must be destroyed _."_

" _No Optimus," I whispered sadly, feeling my eyes beginning to glisten. "There is always another way. You of all beings should know that because you taught me the same exact thing."_

 _The image suddenly rippled and changed to show one of the horrible scenes from my dreams. It was that one with the volcano that was spewing not lava and chunks of pumice and ash, but ridiculous amounts of dark energon. Chunks the size of furniture and grill gas tanks rained down like violet hail as Megatron and Optimus fought on the slopes of the mountain._

 _This time I heard the voices of both Megatron and Optimus as I watched the two fight in horror._

" _Megatron, today you answer for your crimes against Cybertron and against humanity," my Prime growled in that deep timbre of his, charging to meet Megatron head-on. "One shall stand!"_

" _And one shall fall– You, Optimus Prime!" the warlord said as the two once-friends clashed._

 _Their words faded back to nothing, but I couldn't find it in myself to tear my eyes away as I watched the two fight with deadly grace and precision. For a moment, I even thought my Prime was going to win when he finally managed to pin Megatron, but the tables turned yet again. The last thing I saw and heard before the image faded completely was Megatron standing over Optimus triumphantly, blade raised like in my drawing as Optimus said weakly, "Why is dark energon erupting from the earth?"_

 _For a while after the scene faded, all I could do was gape unseeingly at thin air. Maybe I was still slightly in shock. Maybe I was still processing what I had seen. I don't know. I just knew that I wanted to help, to protect my guardian. That unknown pain in my heart as well as my entire being demanded it._

 _Blinking a couple times, I turned to look back at the large mech. "If I accept, will I be able to help them?" I asked imperiously, eyes cold and unyielding like a blade of steel. "To protect and save those I care about if need be._

 _He nodded. "Yes, but the path ahead of you a perilous one indeed," he said gravely. And for the first time, I realized just how old and powerful this mech really was beneath those warm smiles and gentle words. "Fraught with danger and hardship, you will be tested like never before. These trials and tribulations will push you to your limits and beyond as you will both lose and gain much along the way. And though I cannot guarantee that you will be the same afterwards, be aware that should you choose to accept, you cannot turn back for it will be your destiny and your destiny alone to do what must be done."_

 _He did not sugarcoat any of it, for which I was thankful. I needed to be fully aware of what the stakes were and how high they were set. And while I didn't exactly believe in pre-ordained destiny and such, I did acknowledge that whatever I chose would affect the outcome._

 _So the question was: should I accept or no?_

 _It wouldn't be easy; that much was obvious. But I wouldn't be able to turn back either, should I accept. But I could help; I would be able to protect those I cared about. And, this heavy burden wouldn't fall to anyone else._

 _Internal match of ping-pong going on in my mind as I considered all the options, I looked up into the face of the gigantic mech. I didn't say anything as I just gazed at him in a considering way, still weighing all the factors in my mind. For some reason, I imagined I could feel the optics of several others on me as I neared my final decision. Taking a chance, my eyes scoured the area under the encouraging gaze of the being that held my tiny form, and I found several faces watching me, all with smiles on their semi-transparent faceplates. The odd thing was though; I knew all of them though I had never met them._

 _There was Prima. The Warrior of Light. He was the tallest of these new individuals and greatly resembled like the mech who held me, both in frame and overall aura._

 _Next to him, stood the guardian of time and space, Vector Prime, who reminded me of a knight somewhat._

 _To his left was the bookish Alpha Trion, who gave me an oddly proud yet approvingly fond smile, his long beard shifting a little._

 _After that was the first femme cybertronian, Solus Prime. The blacksmith Prime was by far the most beautiful in my opinion with her unique cord and wire-like 'hair' that cascaded down her spinal struts._

 _Beside her was the smallest of all the Primes, Micronus Prime, who was the conscience and moral center of the group kind of like Jiminy Cricket._

 _From there, it was Alchemist Prime. He was a little odd-looking in my opinion as he was the only one with glasses, and he had a hunched back._

 _Close to him was then Nexus Prime, the first combiner. His optics shown with slight amusement as I gazed at him with curiosity, wondering how he would look when he was separated._

 _Then there was—in my opinion—the coolest and most radically different Prime, Onyx Prime. Due to his position as the first beast-like cybertronian, he was the most uniquely interesting of the group. However, you could tell he was quite kind as his gold optics glowed warmly and he flashed a fanged grin my way._

 _Nearby, with his optics glittering mischievously like Loki on a good day (pranking spree, was Amalgamous Prime. He seemed like he would be the type to have a decent sense of humor; he would no doubt have been someone I would have gotten along famously with._

 _And finally, completing the semi-circle, stood Quintus Prime. Even if you just barely spared a quick glance his way, you could just tell that he was a daydreamer and idealist by the way his optics were set in an almost wide-eyed and youthful way._

 _In a way, it was almost awe-inspiring how amazing it was to be standing in all their presences. After all, they were ten of thirteen uncorrupted Primes; though I did wonder a little about the location of the Thirteenth Prime. Eventually, I managed to shake off the sense of wonder and awe as I turned back to the unnamed individual holding me, finally reaching my decision._

 _With formalities I had no idea I possessed let alone where they came from, I knelt on one knee and said in a clear and firm tone, "I accept your offer, Primus."_

 _The now-named deity smiled, pleased._

* * *

—Meanwhile, No One's POV—

After several minutes of scrambling around for tools, orders being barked, innumerable tests being run, and general chaos, June Darby finally snapped. "Jack, help me get Raf and Aria to the car. They're going to the emergency room," she said with a note of finality in her voice as she yanked the stethoscope out of her ears. She was a simple nurse, not a certified doctor. She could barely help Aria and Raf, if at all; it was time for professional help.

"Nurse Darby, your doctors won't be able to comprehend what's afflicting them– not without a decade of study," the Autobot medic pointed out, though he was still as equally worried about the conditions of the two humans and whether they would survive.

They both so pale and sickly looking, and they barely moved at all.

"I don't have time to argue," the woman snapped, blue eyes blazing before she whirled around and began to start packing up the items and stuff she had scattered about little Raf.

Meanwhile, Ratchet was internally panicking as he tried to figure out a solution, mumbling stuff aloud to himself as he typed away at his station, looking at scans of the two sick humans. "The effects of an energon blast on an Autobot can be devastating enough, but these are _humans_ ," he mumbled. "…I'm not getting any readings."

Suddenly, a realization seemed to slap him from out of the blue, and his aquamarine colored optics widened exponentially. The answer was so obvious to him now; he didn't understand how he couldn't have seen it before. "How could I not have seen this? They've been infected with _dark energon_."

Everyone looked at him with a mixture of confusion and hope in their eyes and optics as the puzzle pieces gradually came together in the medic's processor.

If normal energon was the spark of life and dark energon was the anti-spark, that would make the two substances opposites really. And Autobots, all Cybertronian's really, had a natural supply of energon flowing through them which would counter the dark substance. Human's didn't however, so they had no means of fighting it.

"If dark energon is devouring Raf and Aria from the inside out, we must expel it and fast, the only possible way I know," he twittered to himself in a rush.

"I need energon!" he called, not caring if his voice sounded a little panicked as he picked up the tools he needed to attempt an energon transfusion for Aria's and Rafael's sake's.

"Wait. You said energon was devastating to humans," Jack's mother pointed out.

"Under normal circumstances, quite," he said, intent upon explaining quickly and saving the lives of the two humans as soon as possible. "But I am relying upon the dark matter currently invading their bodies to meet it **head on**."

Was it a crazy and hare-brained plan?

Yes.

Was it possible and now their only hope at this point?

Absolutely.

Would it work?

Hopefully. Otherwise, Primus would hear about it from the Ratchet when his time came.

Turning, the medic found Ironhide and Bumblebee waiting for him, arms willingly outstretched, so he could draw energon from them and hopefully save their human friends. As it was, neither of them even so much as twitched when the needle entered their lines, and energon began to flow into the containers. Their pain overridden by their worry.

It was just as Ratchet managed to fill the containers to the estimated amount, that Rafael and Aria's hearts both took a nosedive and started to slow down greatly, beginning to flat-line.

At a pace that only a medic in a hurry to save a life could achieve, the medic opened the sanitized chamber they usually used to run a full diagnostic of an Autobots health.

"I need them over here! Now!" he barked, as Miko, Jack, and June pushed the two medical berths into the chamber. Making sure to hook up the energon donations to each human, the scarlet and white mech rushed out alongside the humans, the door closing behind him as he darted to the computer, hitting the key sequence needed to start the transfusion.

All of a sudden, bright light assaulted the eyes and optics of all watching the procedure, forcing them to look away. Seconds passed that seemed like minutes, as they all held their breaths. The tension was palpable in the room as they waited for the light to abate, and the results of their efforts to be revealed.

Unconsciously, all of them quietly prayed for a miracle, and that things would be alright.

Finally, the light dimmed, and the door slid back, allowing for Nurse Darby to rush over (Miko and Jack following close behind) and check on Aria and Raf.

Nearing Rafael first, she noticed how the young boy's breathing seemed to have evened out though he didn't respond at first. Grasping his wrist and counting his heart rate, June smiled a little, verbally noting how his pulse rate was stabilizing, while the young boy groaned weakly and opened his eyes.

Everyone smiled a little when the first word out of little Raf's mouth was his guardian's name.

"Bee?" the kid asked blearily, squinting at them all as they were nothing but fuzzy shapes without his glasses. However, even then, his eyes managed to locate Bumblebee as his yellow paintjob was easily the most distinguishable in the room.

:{ _Raf…_ }: the scout sighed in relief.

"But what about Aria?" Jack suddenly asked in quite tone, glancing to the left of Rafael's bed along with everyone else except Miko, who merely hugged Raf.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

Mind rising at a gradual pace from the darkness of oblivion, the first thing to return to me was awareness, followed by sound and then feeling.

"But what about Aria?" I heard a familiar voice ask in a worried tone.

 _Brother. Motorcycles._

"It should have worked," a second and equally familiar voice said.

 _Healer. Pranks. Medicine and wrenches_.

I felt a slight tingle run down my body as I started to feel again.

"Then why isn't she waking up?" a third achingly familiar voice said.

 _Gung-ho personality…trigger happy tendencies…cannons, and…_ arguments _?_

 _Ironhide_ , my mind supplied, a name finally coming to me at last.

My entire body still felt slightly numb, and I had the worst case of pins and needles all down my legs and in my hands. Still, even in my groggy state, I could tell that I was lying on a very uncomfortable surface, despite the pillow and blanket.

"Did something go wrong?" the femme, _Arcee_ , demanded. He voice was accompanied by the sound of shifting metal, like she was moving closer or something.

"I don't know!" _Ratchet_ cried in frustration. I could image him throwing his servo's up in the air as he said that.

"Then learn fast!" Ironhhide retorted. "Fix her sla—!"

"Language," June chided.

Finally, I managed to find my tongue, groaning at the fact that it felt like it had gone swimming with a bag of cotton balls.

"Is this all you guys do? Argue?" I groaned in a hoarse voice, lazily pulling back an arm to massage my forehead. Damn, it looked like I had a headache too. Lovely.

Summoning whatever strength, I had, I slowly pried my eyes open, wincing at the bright light above me.

 _Why is it sooo bright, Primus?! Why?!_

Hissing a little as I tried to sit up and failed, I allowed my bleary sight to adjust to my surroundings, calling the names of the two mech's I caught sight of first.

"Ironhide? Ratchet?" I asked, recognition causing them both to smile a little as they nodded. Bringing my elbow up so I could shield my eyes from the light, I said dryly, "If you're here then I must be hell. And will someone please, turn off that friggin' light! It's making my headache worse."

The tension broke and everyone laughed, including the mech's I insulted. Thankfully though, someone took pity on me and dimmed the lights a little.

Then I realized something. Pulling back my elbow to glance around and making sure my sight wasn't hindered by my hair color, I said, "Hang on, we're one short. Where's Optimus? Why isn't he huddled around my sickbed too?"

Even though I had been the one to ask, I had a pretty good idea that I knew where he was, but I didn't say anything. Now was not the time for talk about crazy dreams.

As everyone else glanced at each other in worry and confusion, I watched as Ratchet ran over to his status monitors, one again typing away and hopefully trying to get a lock on my wayward guardian.

 _Foolish Prime_ , I couldn't help but think in a fond but still worried way.

As the Autobot's conversed among themselves, yelling at Bulkhead for letting Optimus face Megatron alone, I let June run through what was probably her typical nurse procedure back at the hospital, on me after she was done with Raf, who was already starting to look better. Much to my relief, June declared that we were fine, though she once again requested and was denied permission to look at what was underneath the bandage on my arm.

Occasionally, I would tune into what the Autobot's were saying. But mostly, I remained absorbed in my own little world, thinking of that odd dream with Primus and the Primes and after I had accepted the cybertronian deity's offer.

However, I was jerked out of my daydreaming stupor when Ratchet's tone changed as the mech shouted, "We need to get Optimus out of there _**now**_!"

Knowing there was nothing I could do in my current condition, I sighed and laid back with an aching heart, knowing that all hell was about to break loose as I recalled Primus' last words.

 _"When the time comes for him to offer, accept and take charge, for it is both of your destinies to play a part in the rising darkness that is to come."_

* * *

Oh slag! What has Aria gotten herself into now? Not to mention Optimus on a rampage, and my BS-ing medical slag. If anyone cares to correct me on how misinformed I am then please feel free. I ain't no doctor thank you kindly.

Anyways, not much to say here except please review, favorite, follow and check out my newest poll. The 5-review policy is still in effect.

Toodles!


	28. Welcome to Planet Chaos!

I'll just make this quick and say thank you to **avatarange** , **Optimus is Bae 17** , **Steelcode** , **bajy** , **Sfrizz5959** , **X Valkyrie Prime X** , **Estela prime** , and those who favorited and followed as well. Thank you a million and one times over.

Now on with the show!

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own Transformers Prime or any other recognizable pieces in here.

* * *

 **Chapter 28: Welcome to Planet Chaos**

—Optimus Prime's POV—

Onlining his optics, a disoriented Optimus took in the cloudy heavens above, all of his limbs feeling like they weighed several more tons than they should. It was raining, but it wasn't water that fell from the sky.

"Why is the blood of Unicron erupting from beneath the Earth?" he questioned softly, feeling exhausted beyond belief as small chunks of dark energon hit his frame. Even in his tired processor, the sight made no sense to him as he lay there on the ground, staring blearily up at the sky in confusion.

However, despite how it had been voiced as a rhetorical question, another voice answered, causing his optics to widen. "A question, Optimus, that you shall take to your grave," Megatron laughed as he towered over the Prime.

Like he was experiencing an adrenaline high as the humans called it, Optimus immediately began to try to get up, but one pede planted firmly on his chassis prevented him from doing so. He could only watch as the former gladiator raised his blade in the air, sadistic smile in place as he purposefully drew out the moment before the blade fell.

He had just enough time to wonder if this was how he was going to die, when suddenly there was a recognizable swishing, humming sound from nearby, followed quickly by the clash of metal as a familiar green form tackled the surprised warlord off of him. Due to the sapping effects of the dark substance that rained down from the active volcano, Optimus lifted his helm just enough to watch as Bulkhead took advantage of the Decepticon leader's surprise and managed to knock him back a couple paces with his mace, metal screeching in his wake.

Meanwhile, the thin frame of Arcee gracefully flipped out of the ground bridge behind him, landing close by and blaster at the ready. In spite of this though, she then caught sight of the erupting volcano, which continued to spew copious amounts of dark energon. The femme seemed to be more surprised than even the Prime had been as she gaped in shock, lowering her weapon slightly. Confused as they all no doubt were by the unnatural sight, the small blue femme probably would have stood and gaped a little longer in shock in her unprepared daze, but then the scarlet and white form of Ratchet emerged from the green vortex followed by Ironhide's black frame.

"Quickly! We must pull him through!" the medic called, snapping the femme back on track, and gesturing for her to cover him and Ironhide as they went over to the severely weakened mech.

Vision swimming as his surroundings spin in dizzying patterns, the Prime couldn't do much but groan slightly and lean his weight on the supportive shoulders of the medic and weapon's specialist, allowing them to pull him to his pedes and guide him through the ground bridge. He could hear his friends and teammates saying something, but it was difficult to make out anything in his tired daze. It was only when they hurriedly returned to the safety of base that he felt much better, clarity gradually returning to his muddled processor and impaired senses.

"Easy, Optimus," Ratchet coaxed gently, guiding him over to the nearest available medical berth with Ironhide's help. "From the looks of things, you've been exposed to a massive amount of Dark Energon."

A familiar voice inside his processor scoffed at the statement and said sardonically, _Yeah, tell me something I don't know_. It was almost amusing how he could imagine her rolling her eyes too, despite the amused glitter in them.

Sitting down with a slight groan, he looked around, optics visually scanning for one form in particular. He needed to know if she was alright, if only to remove that figurative knife from his sparkchamber. Eventually, his optics settled on the familiar golden hair of his charge, who had apparently been watching him, sterling grey eyes meeting his blue optics with an almost knowing look in them. She seemed so much better with healthy color back in her cheeks; he swore his spark gave a small sigh of relief at the sight of her being alive and well, albeit still bedridden.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

"I am not the only one," I heard my foolishly noble guardian rumble as he looked in our (mine and Raf's) direction from where he had been sat. I'm more than willing to admit that I personally felt quite relieved to see him in person, despite how injured and worn he looked. There was just something different, _better_ , about being this physically close to him that made things all the better.

"Hey," Raf greeted Optimus, the chirpiness of it reminding me a lot of how Bumblebee spoke. He was definitely a lot better than before.

My bot actually smiled a little at that, optics returning to me with his own relief shining in them.

Have I ever mentioned that that smile _really_ suits him?

"Hey Sangroyal," I said tiredly with a half-assed wave, my old accent leaking through, though I didn't care. Like I said, I was pretty tired, so I was done trying to keep up the pretense of an American accent, despite the fact that I had just enough energy in me to still tease my guardian, albeit weakly. "Ah see you done tried ta be a noble _couillon_ a-gain." (idiot/fool)

An amused glimmer shone in his optics at my words, and I managed my own small—but very genuine—smile too, despite the fact that there were people watching. Once again, I was to the point where I was done caring about personal image and all that scuzz.

Of course, then June, who had been looking over Raf, had to go and effectively kill the moment between us by snapping out, "They're lucky to be alive." She glared at Optimus as she said that, like it was all his fault somehow. Honestly, was she somehow related to Miko? Like on the more dour and pessimistic side of the family? Could she not appreciate that all of us were alive? Seriously…

Still, I won't deny that I did take some pleasure at how she skirted a little away from Ironhide, who was standing close by.

Oh, I guess I should explain. You see, unlike the kids, who had taken to Ironhide almost immediately, June was a little iffy (if skittish) when it came to the weapon's specialist. Of course, that may have been due to the incident that had happened when they were first introduced to each other. Basically, with the mech being who he was, Ironhide had drawn out his cannons when they met, pointed them in her face, and asked, and I quote, "You feelin' lucky punk?" It was safe to say she had fainted promptly afterwards, much to my amuse– _ahem_ , I mean, regret. In any case, it was safe to say that June had trouble being around Ironhide for long periods of time.

Immediately, that warm smile of his melted like butter on a hot frying pan and was replaced by this painful-to-even-look-at grimace of shame and total regret. He looked like he had just failed a test or something as his optics darkened minutely with pain. In any event, like with my sister, expression just looked so _wrong_ on his faceplates, and it made me want to bend over backwards just to get that smile back. But, I knew I could do little in my current physical state. Ugh! Curse you Mega-aft!

Directing an unseen glare at the back of June's green nursing outfit, I soundlessly listened as Jack said, "Megatron found more of the dark stuff?"

"A volcano full," his guardian replied, her tone of voice suggesting how much the info disturbed her. Come to think of it, I probably would too if I saw a freaking volcano erupting with dark energon with my own two eyes.

"Yeah and last we saw, it didn't show any signs of stopping," Ironhide added with the usual grunt.

"The question is, "how?"" Bulkead summed up nicely for all of us in that dumbed up way only he could manage.

"No," Ratchet cut in, shaking him helm. "The question is, "what?" As in, "what in the world is the blood of Unicron doing here on Earth?""

"The 'Cons killed a unicorn?" Miko asked stupidly, causing the bots to look at her oddly while I debated whether to facepalm or laugh outright.

As it was, I just barely managed to keep myself from snorting at an audible tone. Barely.

Anyways, back to the matter at hand, upon seeing the confusion on their faces, the dark-haired girl quickly added, "White horse with a horn on its head? Prances around all sparkly?" The foreign girl even made a couple ludicrous—in my opinion—hand motions to help illustrate her point.

Gods, and people called _me_ odd.

Ratchet was quick to clarify though. " _Unicron_ ," he said with no small amount of emphasis. "An ancient evil whose fossilized blood comprises the matter which we call dark energon, as legend would have it." He glanced at the the others when he uttered the last couple words, like waiting for them to correct him or something.

They didn't.

"So, you're saying this Unicron is some kind of boogeyman?" Jack's mom questioned, not looking exactly convinced.

This time I did scoff a little, earning a raised optic ridge from a nearby Ironhide. Shaking my head, I just waved him off, while a mental riot kicked off inside my head, wondering where June came up with that outdated idea. That was so…preschool-ish.

""Boogeyman"?" Ratchet parroted.

"Make-believe creepy guy who hides in your closet," Miko provided with some more theatrical arm-waving to help provide visual aid once again.

"No, nurse Darby. Unicron is very real," Ratchet said, before pausing and correcting himself hesitantly, "Was. That is, well, while I do believe he once existed, I just don't subscribe to the theory that his…primordial life force is the substance which…harmed Raf and Aria."

I snorted quietly, mumbling in a scornful tone, "Sounds like someone I know." _Like mother 'dearest.'_

At any rate, his uncertain description made Unicron sound more like a Cybertronian version of the devil to me, and that was probably a more apt description too though I didn't say anything. I didn't need them to get suspicious of me just yet.

Anyways, like mother like son, events of the past often have ways of repeating themselves in the here and now, and we seemed to at last reach June's maximum tolerance level for craziness.

"I've heard enough," the raven-haired woman snapped, holding up her hands in surrender. Her blue eyes showed she clearly couldn't take much more. "Jack, please, help me get Raf and Aria into the car."

My eyes flashed to the woman, a wary look now in the grey orbs as I watched her cart Raf's bed to her car.

:{ _What? I thought they were doing better._ }: Bee beeped, with Jack unknowingly echoing his words.

"They both need to be examined by real doctors," she said with some bite to her tone as she walked past Ratchet, who looked utterly trampled by her cruel words. She then went on to drive more stakes into everyone's hearts as she added, "and Raf's and Aria's families need to know what's happened. Their _real_ families."

Despite my now tensed posture, I rolled my eyes, though the movement went unseen. _Please, they could care less if I died. Actually, they would probably prefer it. The only one who would care is Isabelle, but she'd insist to see me herself though._

Meanwhile, Jack tried to dissuade his mother from any rash actions. "Mom, neither of their families can protect them, not like they can," he said, gesturing at the Autobots.

"June," Optimus cut in solemnly, getting to his pede's despite the disapproving look Ratchet shot him. "It deeply grieves me that I have failed. But I will do everything in my power to ensure that no harm comes to our human friends or any human ever again."

As his beautiful blue optics glance my way, grey eyes widened in surprise at his words. _He thinks he failed?! Why would— He's never— oh…_

"Optimus, they're _children_ ," June stubbornly pushed, earning dirty looks from the others and a positively acidic glare from me. "They do not belong in your world. They should be worrying about grades, prom dates, pimples. Not their own survival!"

Huffing, the feeling of personal offense increased, as did the impression that I would not like where this conversation was headed.

For starters, I hated being called a child; and I think I've mentioned this before. Due to the unforgiving nature and slight lawlessness of the streets, I hadn't been considered a child since I ran away from home, as the harsh environment had forced me to mature faster than those my age. On the streets, I was practically considered an adult at the age of thirteen, with the same realistic mindset to boot. So the term child was a bit of an insult as I was probably more aware of things than most people my age were.

And as for the 'don't belong in your world' comment and subtle insinuations that it was too dangerous for us to handle…Well, let's just say that I almost wish that a cortical psychic patch would work on humans, if only to show that I was more than capable of handling this cakewalk.

At any rate, my mouth remained shut despite my ire, letting the woman build up to whatever misguided point she was trying to make. June and even the kids, like the rest of the world, would never understand thanks to her sheltered lifestyle and point of view. They were domesticated; I wasn't.

Thankfully, Jack attempted to get a mature handle on things, trying to diffuse the tense situation with his mom, as he no doubt caught sight of the dangerous look in my eyes.

"Mom, dark energon is pouring out of the earth," he pointed out, shooting a side-long glance in my direction that begged for back-up. "It doesn't do that. This could be about everyone's survival, not just ours."

Sighing, I pushed my anger to the side as I said, "Tell me June, would you prefer to remain ignorant and in the dark as what looks like literal hell breaks loose here on Earth? Or stay safe with the only beings who may have an answer to what is happening right now? And even after this all passes, do you think you will still be safe? The Decepticon's, even MECH, knows that we have close ties to the Autobot's. Do you really think that you'll be safe if you just go home and lock the front door? No, they are going to exploit every advantage they can find until this conflict ceases. Anyone smart enough to see can tell you this."

"You're coming with me, _all four of you_ ," she barked in a no-nonsense tone, completely ignoring what I had just said, before turning her tirade onto the Autobot's as she said with some finality, "and they will not be coming back."

I went rigid, both at her ignorance and that last statement. What the literal fuck? Was I invisible or something? Or were my opinions just no longer valid in her eyes?

Shoulders taught and spine straight, I only moved once to snap my head towards Optimus as he actually gave in, saying simply, "I understand."

My grey eyes looked at the gentle giant carefully, admittedly feeling a bit betrayed. Why would he…?

Then, I glanced at June again and saw it, causing understanding and comprehension to dawn. The poor woman was terrified, despite the stern face she displayed. You could see flickers of it in her eyes and micro expressions, that slight quaver of her lips as she chewed nervously on them from the inside. She was all so relatively new to this, and June wasn't accustomed to the high stakes that came with knowing the Autobots. She wasn't a soldier in other words, and therefore, she was not prepared to handle what was to come.

Still, despite the fact that I now understood Optimus' reasoning behind letting June go, some part of me resented her for trying to take me away from where I wanted to be…from where I belonged.

Miko, of course, was understandably angry, hurt visible in her eyes as she said accusingly, "That's it? After all we've been through together? "See ya"? What about our freedom to choose?"

"I can't believe dat I'm sayin' dis, but I ah-gree with Miko on dis one," I said, still speaking in slightly broken English as I wavered between Cajun French and normal Americana speech patterns. I ignored the look Miko shot me in favor of returning the woman's glare. "I'd much rather stay than abandon mah friends. It's wrong an' cowardly."

June Darby shot us both a disapproving look after bundling little Raf into her car. "That may fly on their planet," she bit out, "but not here on Earth. _Get in_."

Her eyes were steel-like as she pointed imperiously at the interior of her car.

Honestly, that was a seriously cold blow on June's part, bringing Cybertron into this argument. You could tell by the way all the bots subtly winced at the words 'their planet', pain in their optics. She was basically rubbing salt into an already open wound, and I made me dislike her even more at that moment.

"Do you really expect me to ride in a non-transforming vehicle?" Miko retorted with a small scoff and arms crossed over her chest haughtily.

I smirked a little. Classic Miko and her twisted logic.

June's eyes narrowed, dangerous posture sending up mental warning flags. "Miko, I'm serious."

 _Uh-oh, she's using that mom tone_ , I thought sarcastically, not at all frightened by the sound of it.

"You're not my mother," Miko declared stubbornly in a mocking tone, earning herself at least one brownie point to her name in my book for once.

I could get behind that type of mocking defiance almost any day of the week, just so long as it wasn't directed at me. And you know what they say, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend', or something along those lines.

"Miko!" Bulkhead hissed, trying to get his charge to cooperate.

The foreign girl whirled on him, pig-tails swaying with the motion. "Neither are you!" she snapped, leaving no room for arguments.

June then turned to her son. "Well, I am yours. Let's go, Jack," she barked.

Curiously, I watched as Jack actually looked at Arcee, like he was seeking her approval or something. He had already walked out once before, and I wondered if he would turn tail again like his mother wanted or stay for once.

"She is your mom," Arcee said, slightly defeated tone one again giving the tougher-than-nails femme away and showing how much she didn't want her partner to go.

Dark brows bunched, he then looked at me, and I gave him an encouraging nod, nonverbally telling him to go with his gut. The swirling uncertainty in his blue eyes finally steadied, turning to blue steel as the raven-haired teen came to his decision. Turning on his heel, he walked over to stand by Arcee, saying to his mother, "I'm staying. I'm sorry."

 _My how my little brother has grown into his own person_ , I thought fondly, quite proud of Jack.

At last, June turned her gaze on me, but I was ready for it.

"No."

"Aria, don't be silly. You need to go to the hospital and be checked out by a doctor," June persisted, obviously intent upon not losing this one to me.

" _ **No**_ , Ratchet is more than capable of lookin' after me," I growled, eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth to speak, but I held up a finger, cutting her off. "And don't ya even tink of giving me dat 'you are a minor' crud, June. By law, I am legally adult, and therefore 'ave de right ta choose for myself." I made sure to glance Optimus' way, nonverbally warning him to keep from interfering. "An' ah choose to be loyal an' stand by mah friends."

"That doesn't change the fact that you still need to be checked out," she argued back, coming closer.

Despite how weak I felt, I managed to sit up, uncaring if I was still sore. Giving her my most lethal glare yet that caused her to physically take a step back, I spoke in the frostiest tone I could muster that would have done my mother proud as the temperature in the room seemed to fall by several degrees. "Don't you even dare," I hissed, eyes flashing. Head held high in a show of dominance like I had learned from my time on the streets, I said, "If ya so much as come one step closer, _I will_ make a run fo' it, consequences be damned. You kno' ah can." Then my face twisted into a mocking sneer that I swear made everyone in the room visibly flinch. "But by all means, _try and stop me if you dare_."

Maybe it was because I was recently injured or because I had had that Pit-damned memory/nightmare again while unconscious and remembered all that pain, but I was literally willing to physically fight June on the matter. Ever since the incident, I grew to hate hospitals with a passion. I could barely get near them, let alone walk through the doors of one. I guess it was just because I was so fearful of running into that mad man again. After all, despite how inhumane what he did to me was, it was pretty obvious that the work on my arm was done by a professional with experience, not an amateur. Knowing my luck, he would be working there, and have more than an ample opportunity to finish the job.

So in a way, I guess you could say that I was secretly afraid of hospitals and therefore all medical doctors and surgeons.

Anyways, back in the present, June shook her head in aggravated exasperation, raven ponytail swishing back and forth. "You know what, I don't have time for this. You are going," she informed me, moving closer despite my threat.

Immediately, I was off the bed and standing on unsteady feet, which still retained the slight feeling of pins and needles. However, my aching muscles tensed and ready for action; I was more than ready to make a run for it if need be.

" _Dégage-toi, moule à merde!_ " I snapped out in Parisian French on instinct. (Get away, shit mold!)

Though I did not look at them, I imagined that I looked somewhat wild and panicked to the others, like a cornered animal, and I certainly felt like it with the instinctive urge to either fight or take flight coursing through me.

However, before either of us could move, a large metallic hand scooped me up and cradled me close to familiar red chassis. It was Optimus of course, there to save the day.

"Ratchet, activate the ground bridge," the voice of Optimus rumbled somewhere overhead, preventing further conflict and subsequently deciding my fate. Some part of me felt bad for Raf, but I barely had the energy to care.

Sighing, I allowed myself to visibly relax in his warm grasp, not even remotely freaked out by the way his cupped servo made a slightly enclosed and dark-ish space. No doubt, my mind was still coming down from that adrenaline high and reverting back into my former exhausted state, to care much at all. Honestly, I was perfectly content to close my eyes and just let him hold me the way he was right now.

Primus, I sound like a freaking morphine junkie. Wait…does that make Optimus my 'morphine'?! Ugh! Stupid, crazy mind, the weird places you go!

Meanwhile, June growled a little in frustration before her footsteps made a scuffing sound before becoming a little distant like she had turned on her heel and was heading for the car. "No, thank you," the angry woman snapped, car door slamming shut behind her.

Underneath me, I could feel Optimus vent sadly as the engine of June's car faded away to nothing. Once again, my heart ached, and I mentally seethed at June for causing this. That woman didn't understand at all and here she was blaming everything on Optimus and the others'.

 _She is merely concerned for the safety of the others_ , my internal voice argued, reminding me of Optimus a little. Hadn't he said something similar once too?

In any case, I did my best to comfort him despite the fact that the word 'comfort' wasn't really in my vocabulary. "Don't take her words ta spark, Optimus," I whispered, causing him to look down at me. "She's jus' stressed and bein' an overlay emotional woman right now, trying to find some form of stability in her life right now. She'll gon' come round eventually and probably 'ave a sincere 'pology at da ready, too, I bet."

"Thank you, Aria," he said in that comforting baritone of his, eyes smiling warmly on me before they darkened as he whispered, "Though she is not wrong."

I smacked his windshield, knowing in reality I could do little damage to him. "Oi, we are all alive and in one piece, ya hear? No _bahbin_ , Sangroyal." (pouting/pouting facial expression)

-{ **Prime, do you copy?** }-

We all turned to face the monitors, my guardian stepping up to take the call.

"I hear you, Agent Fowler."

-{ **Been watching the news? Mother nature's got a twitch in her britches.** }- the dark skinned man said bluntly as ever. Briefly, I noted how he looked to be in a helicopter of some sort.

At any rate, I rolled my eyes at his typical way of speaking. He did realize that boy parts were different from girl parts right? Or was the poor man still a virgin? I sniggered a little at the thought.

"We know about the volcano," he said calmly.

-{ **And the quakes?** }- the uptight man accused as an image of the Earth with seven red dots blinking across it. -{ **Seven major tumblers of the exact same magnitude,** _ **at the exact same time**_ **as a volcanic eruption. All over the globe, on different tectonic plates. In theory, unrelated, if they hadn't happened—** }-

"—At the exact same time," Ratchet finished for him, looking at the screen.

My brows furrowed lightly at the news as my heart picked up the pace, though that may have been from Optimus gripping me a little tighter.

I had a really bad feeling about this, and it was a lot more foreboding than when June tried to take me.

"Check it out. More good news," Miko called from the platform she and Jack stood on as she turned up the volume on the TV. Since when had they moved over there?

" _Freak storms unlike any the region has seen_ ," the reporter was saying _. "Tsunamis threaten the Canadian coast while lightning storms pummel the Gobi Desert. Meanwhile, electromagnetic anomalies plague urban power grids. These abnormal global phenomena are leaving most to wonder: 'why now?' and 'what next?'_ "

Anyone else thinking along the lines of apocalypse or Ragnarok here? No?

-{ **Don't tell me your 'Cons have built a weather machine.** }- the man complained.

"One that powerful? Highly unlikely," Ratchet scoffed with some of his usual candor back in play.

Optimus, however, like myself, seemed to slowly putting the puzzle before us together. "I do not believe the appearance of dark energon at this point in time to be coincidental," he rumbled ominously. Turning, he gave Bumblebee swift nod, which the young mech seemed to understand as he transformed down into his alt-mode and sped off down the passage.

"Agent Fowler, we will call you if we figure something out," my mech rumbled.

-{ **Understood. I'm already on route to your base, so you can brief me then. Fowler out.** }- he said curtly before the connection was cut.

"I really do not like this," I mumbled. "Dark energon erupting from a volcano? Electrical storms? Quakes? Electromagnetic anomalies? Something just doesn't add up." Quietly, I prayed that Isabella, as well as some of my other close contacts, were safe.

My guardian, having heard me, nodded in agreement.

I was about to say something else when suddenly my head throbbed painfully, and I groaned. Suddenly, all other sights and sounds seemed to fade away into nothing as I think blacked out for a brief moment. But the experience was…odd, as in the darkness, I heard a voice. A familiar voice. The voice of Megatron.

"… _Rivers of your very lifeblood, rising from the depths to become one with me!_ "

Then everything snapped back to normal, and I found myself on my hands and knees in the palm of the Prime's hand, shaking slightly and sweating a little as a cacophony of voices assaulted my suddenly over-sensitive ears, all calling my name in worried tones.

"…!"

"Aria!"

"What's wrong?"

"Aria, say something!"

Heart racing slightly, I panted a bit, feeling suddenly drained as I flopped over in the Prime's hand. "I- I'm fine," I said shakily, squinting a little when I realized that my vision was slightly blurry. The overhead lights once again seemed to bright. "I just have a headache," I lied, not wanting to tell them about the terrible vision I had just gotten because it would no doubt make that ominous feeling I have even worse.

 _The volcano suddenly erupted anew causing new fissures to form in the ground around it as sinister purple light glowed from them. But the cracks didn't stop. They just kept spreading until the entire earth was covered in them before the whole planet shattered like glass in one big explosion, revealing—_

I shook my head, wishing I could bleach away the visions (all of them) as well as that damnable feeling of utter dread in my stomach that wouldn't go away. It was making me go bonkers as my instincts kept screaming that 'it was coming!' whatever that meant.

Turning my gaze upward, I found my guardian staring down at me with a worried expression on his faceplates.

"Aria, are you positive you are okay?" he prodded, blue optics shining.

Tired and still panting slightly, I nodded with a weak smile. "I'm ready to kick 'con tailpipe when you are, Sangroyal."

He, along with Ratchet and Ironhide, didn't seem to buy it; their gazes showing their suspicion though they didn't comment. Well, _most_ of them didn't comment.

"Ep ep pep, you femme are not going anywhere for a while," the medic said firmly, taking me from Optimus' servo. Once again, I suddenly felt like the world got ten degrees darker now that I was no longer in physical contact with Optimus.

"Awe but Hatchet," I whined, tensing a little when he growled at the nickname but nothing else.

"No, you need _rest_ ," he insisted.

I shifted a little and caught Optimus' optic, silently begging for him to come save me again. And you know why that jerk did in response? He freaking shrugged, smiling a little as if to say 'you are on your own'. That fragger even had the gall to look slightly amused!

"Jerk," I muttered with an infinitesimal pout, resigning myself to my fate with the infamous Ratchet the Hatchet. Of course, I was so weak and worn-out; I doubted I could do much at this point except complain loudly, flip him and Optimus the bird several dozen times if I felt like it, and annoy my current captor to the brink of insanity.

Letting the medic run a scan of me (probably looking for more traces of dark energon) before setting me back down on the uncomfortable medical berth, I listened to the sound of Bee's engine as the scout returned at last.

And it seemed he had some passengers this time.

"Uh, we're back," Raf cheeped unsurely, hopping out of Bee's vehicle mode the same as June.

"And we are glad," Ratchet merely said, relieved like we all were that they were safe.

"Awe Peppermint, you really do care," I managed to tease while Jack and June had their own little reunion. They need to set things right, and I was more than happy to provide a distraction for everyone else, despite how I may feel towards Jack's mother. I wanted them to have the parent-child relationship that I never had.

"Don't call me that!"

Ironhide seemed to decide to get in on the fun too, probably to just help lighten the mood a little. "Peppermint? It suits you, Hatchet," he chuckled in that faint British accent of his, smirking.

The unison-raid of two flying wrenches smacked the black mech in the helm with a harmonized _**CLANG!**_ sound as the medic and I said at the same time,

"Don't call me that!"

"Hey, that's my nickname for him!"

Don't ask me where my wrench came from, nor where I got the strength to throw it either.

Everyone watched on in amusement, including Jack and his mother, who seemed to have cleared up things between them.

…And then the TV caught our attention, the reporter's words draining all traces of happiness from the room.

" _World leaders are classifying these bizarre weather patterns as a global emergency._ "

"Global?" the raven-haired mother squawked as she and her son raced up the step to get closer.

" _And scientists believe the phenomena to be somehow related to the current planetary alignment._ "

"Took 'em long enough to figure that out," Ironhide muttered to which I hummed in agreement.

Finally, the last guest showed up to the party, storming out of the lift as per his usual manner and the name 'Prime' in the first sentence out of his mouth.

"What have you learned, Prime?" Agent Fowler asked though more like demanded. "And you better not blow smoke up my oven—" and then he caught sight of June and stopped mid-rant. "Ms. Darby," he said in a more pleasant tone. "What a nice surprise."

"Special Agent Fowler," the woman greeted simply.

Ironhide and I shared a look before both rolling our respective sets of peepers as we looked away.

Ratchet was the first among the bots to speak, being the pseudo scientist of the group that he was.

"We have learned this," he began in a tone that mimicked the speech-patterns of the strong, steady baritone of a certain Autobot leader I had grown close to. "As with the so-called magma from the volcano, these earthquakes originated far below the Earth's crust, from the very center of the Earth's core, in fact."

On the green monitors he pulled up the original image of the globe Fowler had previously sent, tilting the image so that we were looking down at our earth from the north pole. Each of the seven red dots then grew a limb that led straight to the core of the earth like Ratchet had mentioned, converging on the same yellow point which pulsed.

"Quakes don't start there. Do they?" Fowler asked, looking at Nurse Darby, who stood next to him, as it had probably been some time since his seventh grade science class.

I however, was the one who answered. "No, quakes usually happen along oceanic and continental plates, when rocks along a fault line rub together in opposite directions."

Ratchet nodded a little in my direction, gazing at the image as he typed. There was this odd light in his optics that usually led to him eventually gasping "By the Allspark!" followed by an insane but possible idea or bit of information. "Tiny tremors rising and failing in a consistent pattern, almost like…"

 _And wait for it._

"By the Allspark! If I convert these data points to audio files…" he trailed off for the second time, typing furiously.

"What? What is it?" Fowler prodded, still confused like many other were.

"Listen," was all the medic hissed and we all fell deadly silent, audials and ears straining.

And then we heard it. A sound which normally would be a cause to rejoice, but instead sent chills down my spine, draining color from my face.

 _Th-thump…th-thump…th-thump…_

In my mind, the puzzle finally came together as the last piece was revealed, creating an image of utter terror. It all made sense now!

 _Primus and Unicron fought. When the Chaos-Bringer was defeated by Primus and the Thirteen Primes, and they cast him out, thinking he would die of his injuries—_

"A cybertronian heartbeat?" I faintly heard Jack ask as my mind went into hyperdrive.

 _But he didn't because Unicron and Primus are created from the same being. If one were to die, so would the other, but Primus merely went into deep stasis, fusing himself with the core of Cybertron. He was technically still alive,—_

"How is that possible?" June asked.

— _But he had to keep the scales of Universal balance even considering his brother's state. So if he was in stasis, then Unicron was too as he drifted through the cosmos for eon's._

"—A heart pumps blood—"

' _A world forged from Chaos'… Space debris collects around the sleeping colossus—_

"—There's nothing inside the earth to pump except–"

 _Forming Earth itself, which means…_

"Blood of Unicron," Raf gasped, finishing the sentence for June.

"It's him," I whispered in a slight daze, somehow managing to draw all eyes and optics to me despite my quiet tone; I could see in my guardian's optics that he knew what I meant. "He's here. He's been here the entire time." Abruptly, I stopped, clutching my head and hissing in pain again as I once again found myself seeing and hearing something else.

 _Pure evil optics the color of purple poison, shone out of the gloom as the ancient, shadowy figure spoke the words I had been dreading, the utterance leaving me with a feeling of pure terror._

" _ **I awaken**_ _."_

As the crushing pressure faded away again, I felt my eyes glistening as I waved away everyone's worries, grunting, "I'm fine. Just a headache."

Internally though, I was panicking. _He's awake. Unicron is awake. Slag! Slag! Slag!_

I didn't even register that Optimus was picking me up again until I felt a slight breeze and warmth around me, followed by a slightly odd—but no less welcome—relief from my aching head.

"Okay, hold on. You mean something's living down there, _inside_ our planet?" Miko asked from her perch on the top of the couch. She still didn't seem to get it.

The natural rumble of his voice shaking me a little, Optimus calmly explained things to her, something of which I did not have the energy or patience to do. I just felt so damn tired! I wanted to curl up in Optimus' warm hand right now and sleep for a week.

"I fear that the Earth's very core is not comprised of magma, as your science has suggested, but of dark energon," he said, one of his digits rubbing soothing circles along my back.

"And if we're hearing a spark, then Unicron is the rising darkness that the prophecy foretold," Ratchet pieced together.

"So, how do we stop this thing from rising?" I heard Fowler ask bravely, while I closed my eyes briefly. Primus my body felt like one giant bruise.

Sadly, my Prime didn't have an answer, none of us did, but he was just the first to admit it verbally. "That, I am afraid, was not foretold."

"How can something be in our Earth's core and be _alive_?" June pondered aloud, like Miko, still not comprehending what we were saying.

"Such a thing is not unprecedented," the Prime replied, venting slightly before telling us the tale, one which I knew very well as his deep baritone washed over me like a soothing balm.

"Before the beginning, there was Primus, and there was Unicron. One, the incarnation of creation; the other of destruction. For eons, Primus and Unicron battled, the balance of power shifting between them more times than could be counted. Only by creating the Thirteen, the original Primes who preceded me, was Primus finally able to defeat Unicron and cast him out. Primus became one with the very core of our planet, creating life through the well of Allsparks, while Unicron was never to be heard from again. Until now."

All the while as he spoke, images danced before my closed eyes showing things like a young Cybertron, the battle between the two brothers, the creation of the Thirteen, the defeat and banishment of Unicron, Cybertron's core, the Well and so on. And if I concentrated enough, I could almost imagine that I heard the sounds of the ancient battle playing out, metal clashing, rallying war cries, howls of pain, and blaster fire.

Once had finished however, I opened my eyes and glanced at those glowing blue orbs of the one who held me ever so gently, frowning lightly at the aged look I saw in them. Old memories; young 'bot; the burdens of great knowledge, and the responsibility that comes with.

I wondered if I ever looked that way in my hard-earned maturity.

Meanwhile, at the conclusion of the story, Fowler pulled a Miko, as in he said something really stupid due to his ignorance. "Maybe we can find the hole this Uber-'Con left when he dug himself all the way down there and fill it full of explosives."

Ironhide vented a small huff somewhere nearby. The sound coming out as derisive as his voice as he grunted, "Yeah I wish."

Sharing a look with Ratchet, Optimus gave the mech a look before turning on the government suit. "Agent Fowler, I do not believe that Earth became Unicron's home, but rather, that with time and gravitational force, debris collected around the slumbering titan."

"Forming your Earth itself," Ratchet finished with a quiet tone.

Seriously, were Ratchet, Ironhide, Optimus and I the only ones who figured this all out?

"And he's only awakening now due to the magnetic pull created by the planetary alignment," Arcee realized, catching on.

"Okay, well, what happens now when Unicron wakes up from his billion-year nap?" Jack queried.

"Yeah, does he stretch and kapow! Earth poofs to dust?" Miko asked with her usual exuberance, brash words and imagery making me wince.

My Prime was quiet.

"You don't know, do you?" I asked softly, before anyone else could speak.

"My guess is that Unicron has transcended physical form as we know it," he said, having at least some form of an intelligent answer of some sort, even if it wasn't a positive answer. "Nonetheless, we must find a way to ensure that this force of nature never fully awakens. The fate of your planet depends upon it."

Curling up a little more until I could rest my chin on my knees, I once again found myself praying that everything would be alright, that we would all make it out alive.

* * *

—Meanwhile, Unicron's POV—

Despite the magnetic pull created by planetary alignment, the primordial being was slow to wake, and even slower to gain enough strength to rise. Still, even as he returned to consciousness from the deep state of stasis he had been in, he was _aware_ , even if he didn't fully realize it. He couldn't move much yet besides shift slightly. But his mind was fully functioning. The Chaos-Bringer remembered everything from the point when he and his accursed brother had become their own entities, right down to when he had been defeated by Primus and his spawn and cast away, only to fall into this state.

Sometimes, while he was drifting through the cosmos, he would awaken briefly, only to be forced back into stasis before much could be done as he was still weakened. But each time he did, he would stay that way for a little longer than the last as his strength returned.

Now however, was the time. Unicron would at last rise; he was determined about that.

He could feel his twin brother, somewhere, far away and in a similar state to him. However, he was severely weakened and obviously in no condition to stop him like last time.

Unicron smiled.

" **I** **awaken**."

 _And soon, brother, once I return to my full power, I will have my vengeance on you,_ he thought over that bond they shared.

Feeling a familiar life force that reminded the Destroyer greatly of his imprudent brother and lowly disciples, he cast his consciousness in its direction, his new but ultimately temporary form rumbling a little with laughter as he found the traces of his brother's presence. It was another being much like that fool's precious Thirteen, though it's life force was surprisingly quite similar to Primus'. Concentrating harder, the primordial being also faintly detected echoes of the Matrix holder's presence on another, much smaller being, like a scent that was left behind from close contact. It wasn't really that much of a threat; an ant compared to him. Though, it did amuse him how it suffered from his presence slightly. But whatever it was, it carried the taint of Primus, they both did, something which displeased him greatly considering his loathing for his brother.

No, he could not allow this.

A sinister expression made its way onto his face as a plan formed in the ancient processor.

 _For now, though, I shall start by discarding all those who carry your taint, picking them off before I purge all of you from this life. I will have my revenge! I will purify the universe of imperfections!_

Cackling madly, he began to gather more of his strength, intent upon cleansing the universe of Primus for good.

From the bond, all he got was a faint, but defiant nudge that was meek at best and caused the evil titan to laugh again.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

Despite Optimus' comforting presence, the pain got worse and the visons more intense. June had tried to get me to take some painkiller that would make me sleepy, but I had insisted that I needed to stay awake. I didn't want to go to sleep only be subjected to those nightmares just yet.

Still, while everyone around me discussed the situation and other slag, I found myself continuing to experience the painful visions, which to me were sort of like vibrant PTSD episodes or waking nightmares really. Sometimes, I would hear Optimus and the others talking about where Unicron was likely to appear. Other times, I would watch as flashes of Megatron and Unicron spoke.

It felt like I was going mad, and the only thing that kept me grounded in reality was the gentle touch of Optimus' thumb digit rubbing up and down my spine. It reminded me that I was safe and alive and quite literally in good hands, or servo's really. But it couldn't last because the soothing motions finally stopped, and I opened my eyes to see I was being held at his optic level.

"I apologize little one, but I must go," he told me gently.

Luckily or unluckily, I was coherent enough at the time to understand as my eyes widened at the words. "What?! Why?!" I squawked, sitting bolt upright and eyes slightly wild.

* * *

—Optimus Prime's POV—

Gazing apologetically down at his cherished human charge, he felt his spark pulse in an ultimately painful way at the mere thought of leaving her. Fleetingly comparing her to the size of his servo as well as remember the past events when her life was in danger, he was once again reminded how tiny and fragile she was. How fragile all humans were, really. He often found himself forgetting this fact when he was around her because of how strong and confident she was. It was almost impossible to not look at her and find a characteristically strong femme, with an equally steadfast (and slightly sarcastic) personality to boot.

But he remembered her fragility now as he looked into shining silver eyes that begged him not to go despite the pain he knew she was hiding.

He wished he didn't have to leave her, but as a leader and Prime, it was his duty to protect his team…his _family_ and loved ones from Unicron, including the ever-strong but secretly sweet Aria.

"I apologize, but I must," he merely said, and he truly meant the apology with all his spark. If there was another way to keep her safe, he would do it in a sparkbeat. But alas, this was the only way, and he tried to convey as much to her with only his optics.

For a moment, both of them were quiet as he looked into her pain-filled grey orbs and she into his regretful glowing blues.

Finally, though, she relented, murmuring a soft, "Stay safe Sangroyal." Her eyes however, held a silent threat, warning him against doing anything she considered stupid, like not returning back alive.

He almost smiled. Classic, lovable, Aria, affectionate in her own gruff ways. Primus how he adored his femme.

Optimus' thoughts screeched to a stop at the mental word's 'his femme', all action stopping for a brief second as he processed the thought. He just barely managed to brush off the sudden stop in movement as he handed his fe— _Aria_ , over to Ironhide, sparing the mech a meaningful glance that asked him to look out for her.

Shaking his helm slightly, he turned and headed for the now open ground bridge, trying to ignore the pain in his spark as he got farther away from those he loved, including Aria.

 _Stay safe little one_.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

Watching as he disappeared though the ground bridge, I was numb to all the pain except the one in my heart. It reminded me of when I was with Izzy and had to leave, only it felt slightly different, and the pain was accompanied by a note of hysteria and fear.

Fear. I haven't been aware of what that word really meant for a while. Yes, I knew what it meant, but I haven't felt, let alone acknowledged, it in some time now.

But could you blame me? That fool of a Prime was going to try and reason with Unicron the Destroyer, Chaos-Bringer, and the freaking incarnation of destruction and all that jazz.

Seriously, he had the gall to lecture me about dangerous situations when he was willingly walking into one himself? I don't care if he is physically stronger than me; I call hypocrisy.

 _All joking aside though_ , I thought as Ironhide let me rest on his shoulder plates. _If he gets himself mulched, I will make Unicron look like a cakewalk when I revive him, that way I can kill him myself_.

In any case, it seemed like my brief reprieve from the visions and pain they brought was over as I was suddenly assaulted by what felt like someone sticking a white-hot poker to my temples, pain so blinding and intense that I was unable to make a sound.

" _Do you know me, follower of Primus?" the Destroyer boomed, face sticking out of a canyon wall, pure purple optics glowing with his malice._

" _Unicron, the Chaos-Bringer," my Prime acknowledged._

" _Good," he breathed dangerously as his body formed from the very canyon wall, ridiculously spoked form looming over that of my Prime's. "Now know me as Unicron,_ **your destroyer** _!"_

 _Then he attacked, forcing Optimus to bring out his blades to defend himself. Some part of me that was more inclined as a fighter noted with some relief how sloppy Unicron's movements were, like he was unaccustomed to fighting in his current form of something. Still, what his lacked in grace and agility, he more than made up for in strength and size. Horrified, I watched as the primordial being forced Optimus to back up. But even when he managed to destroy the earthen mech's left limb by getting him to punch a rock, I continued to feel uneasy, remembering Optimus' words about the mech transcending physical form._

" _I humbly request your ear, lord Unicron," Optimus bade, retracting his blades a little and even bowing to the ancient titan._

 _For some reason, the part of my brain that was devoted to defiance screamed that "Prime's shouldn't bow to anyone!" and my more naturally angry side agreed wholeheartedly. It_ looked _wrong. It_ was _wrong. It_ is _wrong on so many levels._

" _And what would a Prime be so compelled to say to me?" he sneered, though he did seem taken off guard, lowering his weapons a little._

" _I make this appeal not for myself but for this planet which you constitute and the beings who inhabit it. Humankind relies upon you for life, sustenance. Your resurrection will only result in the destruction of a species which evolved from the seeds of your very greatness."_

Oh Optimus, you noble, noble, selfless fool…

" _So, this humankind of whom you speak, you consider them my progeny?" the ancient being demanded._

" _Indeed," Optimus nodded, hope alight in his optics._

" _Parasites!" Unicron roared. "They, too, shall know my wrathful hand once I am finished with you and your echo!"_

 _I didn't have time to ponder what the ancient mech meant by 'echo' as he then transformed his servos back to clawed digits and_ shot lightning _at my guardian, sending him flying with a cry._

 _Even as the vision began to fade, I felt like I was watching Optimus' fight with Megatron all over again, except this time it was an ancient horror that towered over my mech._

" _The line of Primes has grown weak in my absence. And thus, you shall fall," he declared, readying another blast._

 _Still, Optimus remained true as he declared valiantly, "That outcome is inevitable. But not on this day!"_

 _And then he blasted the Chaos-Bringer to smithereens…only to find that he was surrounded by an army of Destroyer's when the dust finally settled._

" **Yes, disciple of Primus, on this very day, for Unicron may be one, but we all are Unicron!** _"_

Everything faded to black, and I knew no more.

* * *

 _Sacrebleu!_ (My goodness!/Sacred blue!)

Well I hope I did well on this, especially Unicron's point of view and the parts about the cooking romance between our girl and a certain Prime.

So by now you guys are probably wondering about the whole Cajun French thing with Aria, right? Well since I'm not sure if I'll ever get to explain it in the story, I'll just tell you guys. After Aria ran away from her mother's home to try and live on the streets, she met her two mentors Azriel Slade and Sarakiel Cage (he's a dude FYI) after a while of barely surviving. They took her in and taught her the skills she needed to survive. And considering both their backgrounds (which will be revealed later in the story), they encouraged Aria to try and adopt an accent to get a feel for another culture and how people speak in that culture. And Aria chose Cajun French.

Now on a more personal note, I find Cajun/Creole culture absolutely fascinating. If I met a young gentleman with the same accent, I would marry him straight away. LOL

Anyways, hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I personally can't wait to be done with the Orion Pax episodes, but that's all I can tell you.

Please review, favorite, follow, and **check out my new poll!** You lot know the drill with the **5-review policy**. Have a wonderful day and I hope to see you next chapter!


	29. Tipping Point

To my those who followed, favorited, as well as **Steelcode** , **Estela prime** , **X Valkyrie Prime X** , **Lovingh3art** , **Guest** , **Sfrizz5959** , **bajy** , **Ma-ki Ji-ez** , and **b. marr** , I just want to say one thing: Thank you! You guys may not know it, but it's thanks to your contributions that this story is still going strong. Thank you!

Anyways, just to forewarn you guys, this is the chapter where things start to change a little from the original story line. Its good as I can possibly make it, I promise you, but I've decided to take liberties here so that this idea doesn't become too boring. Of course, the changes in this chapter are not super significant, (as that will probably be the next chapter and the ones after that), but it is different nonetheless, so just a heads up for you.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime or any other recognizable works.

* * *

 **Chapter 29: Tipping Point**

 _Knowing what had to be done, Primus, having removed himself to even the scales, faded away into deep hypersleep, leaving his memories up to his creations of how he and his twin were divided from the Original Being. He knew that he and his brother were too evenly matched for this eternal conflict to ever come to a resolution, so he sought to change this eternal stalemate by removing himself from the equation and substituting beings who would form to incorporate facets of the Creator and Unmaker's natures. With their greater variety and uniquely varied potential to change the future, the creation of these beings, The Thirteen, would hopefully be enough to increase the options for new direction and creativity far beyond the equally matched duality of the original combatants._

 _Finally, the Thirteen had settled on a plan to battle and distract the Unmaker. However, this was only supposed to be a cover so that they could open a path for the Thirteenth to be inserted in close proximity to Unicron's core. As his spark was so uniquely Primus-like, they hoped that it would react with Unicron's and both would then be knocked into involuntary shutdown. Then, the Primes would hopefully retrieve the Thirteenth and revive him._

 _However, when the time came for battle, it did not go at all as planned. Proving far more hellish and terrible then they had ever anticipated during all their training, Unicron assaulted them with defenses far beyond their expectations. Even worse though, the mere aura of his presence crushed all their hopes and dreams like an army of dementors, only much worse, nearly drowning their sparks in despair and darkness._

 _But then, like that stone of hope appearing out of the mountain of despair, the Thirteenth's gentle voice reached the processors and sparks of his comrades. Those three simple words he spoke rekindling their hope and will to fight._

"All are One _."_

 _At last, the tides turned, and the Thirteen eventually succeeded in their goal of vanquishing Unicron. They did not kill him, of course, as it was against their nature, and his death would disrupt the cosmic balance. The Chaos-Bringer was merely knocked into unconsciousness, hopefully forever._

 _But that was just wishful thinking on their part._

 _He would rise again, and another would be called to face him in that time of peril, just as before._

 _One way or another, history would_ _ **always**_ _repeat itself._

Aria didn't realize that she had passed out until she opened her eyes blearily and found herself, once again, lying on that damn uncomfortable medical gurney. June was leaning over her with a worried frown as she checked her pulse. She hadn't noticed that Aria was awaken yet, but she seemed to be concerned for some reason.

Grey eyes watching her movements, she then watched as the woman's gaze shifted to the bandage on Aria's arm. She was biting her lip nervously and had a looking her blue eyes that Aria had seen quite a few times on the streets: temptation. The woman seemed to be torn between respecting a patient's need for privacy and the temptation to feed her curiosity and see what was under the cloth. Whatever was going through the woman's mind though, Aria did not like the look it made on her face as she seemed to come to a decision.

The woman began to reach for the wrapping. However, before she could get too close, Aria's hand suddenly shot out and caught the woman's wrist with a surprising amount of speed and strength.

"Don't even think about it," she growled, causing everyone to look at her.

As though she had not just been caught doing something that would have probably earned her a permanent stink-eye with the blonde girl, June gasped in relief. "Aria are you alright? You passed out a little while ago. Was it a migraine or headache?"

"I'm fine," the young street fighter growled, sitting up with a grunt and making sure to keep a steady eye on the raven-haired woman.

"Aria, you passed—"

"I said I'm fine," the blonde snapped with a fierce glare that immediately silenced the woman. Obvious distrust in her piercing grey gaze, she turned her attention to the rest of Team Prime. "How's it looking with Optimus?" she asked.

The medic took in the look on her face. He could see that beneath that moody façade; Aria was extremely worried about her guardian, maybe even more so than the rest of Team Prime. But considering how close those two were, it was no surprise really. However, he wasn't sure what to make of the odd look in those grey optics he had seen when she had woken up. For lack of better words, she seemed older, more knowing, almost like she knew what they were facing, though he shook that last thought off.

In any case, figuring it was in their best interest to check up on the Prime, Ratchet turned back to the monitors and commed Optimus.

"Optimus, have you uncovered any further sign of Unicron's emergence?"

Then came the awful, ancient voice Aria had heard several times in her dreams, its words spoken in eerie, nerve-wracking harmony and all by the same, malicious voice. -{ **Unicron is power incarnate, and you, the last of the Primes, shall** _ **perish**_ **.** }-

"I take that as a yes," Ratchet deadpanned. "We are on our way."

However, before he could get too far, Optimus' voice came through the link. -{ **Negative. Unicron cannot be defeated by sheer force. He wants** _ **me**_ **, Ratchet.** }- he said, causing an ugly sneer to curl Aria's lip, which only intensified when he said, -{ **This fight must be mine alone.** }-

Aria didn't even attempt to hide her snort when the line cut out. "Like Pit we're gonna let that happen." Grey eyes turned to the medic and weapon's specialist, an imploring look in them. She wasn't going to take no for an answer.

* * *

—Ratchet's POV—

Any feeble arguments he had in regards to listening to his superior officer's command were short lived in the face of the human enigma known as Aria Slade-Cage. That's not to say he didn't agree with her—because he most definitely did—but he still technically had to listen to Optimus' orders, even if he didn't like them.

Anyways, before the medic could really comprehend what he was doing, he had opened a ground-bridge for the others to go to his Prime's aid at the blonde femme's request (more like demand). Seriously, it was almost terrifying how, a human no less, could convince him to go against his Prime's orders almost faster than he could comprehend.

Keeping one optic on the team's vitals, he shifted his other to glance at the grey-eyed femme. She was staring intently at the screen, and she didn't even seem to realize that she was being watched. Or course, she might have known and was choosing to ignore the look, but something told him that that wasn't the case. There was something in her steel colored eyes that just didn't seem right.

Infinitesimally, the medic shook his helm and focused back on the team and their chatter over the communication link. Now wasn't the time to worry about the gruff femme's behavior.

…Or so he told himself, despite that feeling of foreboding.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

Like a kid playing with the radio, I tuned in and out of reality, catching snatches of comm. link chatter, though it didn't always make sense what I heard. I think it was because I was still a little disoriented after passing out, but I didn't really care.

" _ **I awaken**_."

I shuddered at the even the simple thought of Unicron's voice. It was like I was hearing my mother, older sisters, that arm-butchering psycho, and just about every other guy on the streets who ever trash talked me, only it was worse, like an injection of ice water and poison.

But it sounded slightly familiar too, which was nerve-wracking in itself, like I had heard that tone of voice before…or spoken with that same exact tone.

I glanced down at my hands in my lap, and the image before me flickered. My knuckles were bruised and bloodied in the cheap lighting. Fresh cuts stung slightly as they oozed blood. I imagined I could smell sweat as it made my hair cling to my face.

Then, I blinked and the flashback was over. I released the breath I hadn't known I had been holding as well as relaxed my tense muscles.

I thought back to my dream with Primus and the Primes. Could I do it?

I wasn't smart like Ratchet or strong like Ironhide and Arcee. I wasn't loyal like Bulkhead and Bumblebee, and I didn't see the good in people like Optimus did. I wasn't even a good person like they were. As far as I was concerned, I am a monster pretending to pass off as human.

"Please! Listen to reason!" I caught Ratchet saying to my stupid Prime no doubt.

 _Little one, every sentient being deserves an opportunity for redemption_ , I heard Optimus' voice say in my head, making me smile wryly.

 _Not me. My knuckles are too bruised and bloodied_ , I thought darkly, though I could imagine that look of stubborn insistence on his features as he told me otherwise. _If only you knew_ …

I sighed quietly, peering around at everyone else. I could see a thousand more reasons why I wasn't good enough for this. I was too… _impure_ ; the Dark Phoenix would never be suited for the white knight position, only a black queen.

Again, the voice of Optimus spoke in my mind, words sounding exactly like something the Prime would say. _Aria, fate rarely calls upon us at a moment of our choosing_.

Again, a wry smile turned my lips as I looked back down at my lap. _Fine, I'll play it your way, Prime. But don't say I didn't warn you_.

Suddenly, my thoughts were cut off by Arcee's voice issuing from the monitors.

-{ **Ratchet.** }-

Immediately, the medic was up and responding, voice suggesting that he feared the worst. "What is it? What happened?"

-{ **I happened**.}- a new but nonetheless familiar voice answered.

-{ **Megatron?!** }-

"King 'Con is there, too?" Miko asked rhetorically, ever the _genius_ detective that she was.

"He has aligned himself with Unicron," Ratchet spat venomously, which made me give him a look he didn't see. Then I remembered a little detail from our little synthetic energon incident; Ratchet, no matter how loyal he was to Optimus, still resented the big guy a little for his lack of action in the war and the many chances he had had but never taken to slay Megatron.

-{ **Don't be so sure. Megatron just saved Optimus' tailpipe.** }-

Now that got my attention if they didn't have it before.

-{ **It is rather ironic, considering our last encounter. If memory serves, you were desperately attempting to extinguish my spark.** }-

I snorted in quiet disbelief, disliking the use of the word 'desperate'. My Prime was never desperate and certainly not in the way Megatron was hinting.

Of course, my ire was soon soothed when Optimus rumbled, -{ **That option remains very much in play.** }-

 _Yeah, you tell him Optimus!_

-{ **I would expect nothing less. However, I have a proposal: Join me in defeating our shared enemy— Unicron, the Chaos-Bringer.** }-

Cue total muteness, both mental and physical. All I could do was blink stupidly and fail miserably to form the word 'what'.

I nearly jumped though when Ratchet gave a loud, sardonic laugh. "Ha! Absurd! Unicron is evil incarnate. If Megatron was to take any side, why would it be ours?"

-{ **Because Megatron's pride would never allow anyone other than himself to rule this planet**.}- my Prime answered evenly.

-{ **You know me all too well, Optimus**.}-

Even though I could not see the gunmetal-grey mech, my eyes narrowed at his honey-lathered words. He was playing nice for reasons I did not yet know; I just knew he wanted _something_.

Ironhide must have agreed because he said, -{ **That's some pretty talk for a 'Con.** }-

-{ **You lead an army of 'Cons. Why come to us?** }- Bulkhead demanded.

-{ **Because this particular endeavor requires something beyond the realm of my command: The power of a Prime.** }- Megatron sounded a little impatient as he said this, probably tired of the interrogation he was getting when he knew we were running out of time.

-{ **Then I guess we don't need you then.** }- Ironhide grunted in amusement.

Of course, the cunning mech had another ace up his sleeve so to speak. -{ **On the contrary, Optimus may be the only one who can defeat Unicron, but I remain the only one who can guide you to him. Unicron's lifeblood runs through me. Only I can hear his thoughts, anticipate his movements.** }- he paused and I imagined him turning his attention to my guardian to look him full in the face. -{ **Optimus, our past alliances—Autobot, Decepticon—no longer matter, not while Unicron lives.** }-

That hit a sore nerve with Ratchet. "The past always matters!" he roared, pounding his fist violently on the console and causing me to nearly jump again, though I managed to turn the movement into a violent twitch of the wrist.

Of course, that didn't stop my sarcastic side from coming out. Hey, when I feel threatened, I start snarking…unfortunately. "Seriously, Hatchet anger management classes, _please_."

Sadly for me, I didn't manage to hit the 'whisper' button on my controls before I said this, so everyone basically heard me and immediately tensed, waiting for the wrenches to start flying. Truthfully, I did too when blazing blue optics located me. Instead though, the medic merely scowled at my bed-confined form before turning back to the monitors. "Only when you stop calling me those horrid nicknames, femme."

Childishly, I stuck my tongue out at him, knowing he wasn't going to nail an injured human with a wrench.

"I saw that," was all he said without turning as we all focused back on the conversation the 'Bots were having with Megatron.

-{ **Only as long as it's mutually beneficial.** }- the warlord was saying.

-{ **And when our proposed shared mission is complete?** }- Prime queried skeptically.

My brows furrowed a little while I shifted so that my feet hung over the side of the bed so that could I attempted to stand. Was anyone else finding this conversation vaguely familiar?

-{ **I will conquer this Earth…my way.** }-

I shook my head at the words while my feet touched the ground. I was a little unsteady, but I could still stand.

-{ **Brutal honesty from a Decepticon?** }- Arcee commented. She obviously didn't trust the mech.

"Aligning with the lesser of two evils is still siding with evil," Ratchet added in that 'I loathe all things Megatron' kind of way of his, (though I like to think it was a little lighter thanks to my previous joke).

-{ **Do you think you've witnessed the full power of Unicron? Those foot soldiers were nothing more than a taste. Unicron has yet to fully awaken. With each passing moment, the Bringer of Chaos evolves, mutating Earth from the inside out. What we have witnessed until now is but a prelude of the utter devastation his rising will wreak upon your world.** }-

"Gotta hand it to the mech, he certainly knows how to make a convincing speech." I ignored the looks everyone gave me as I continued, saying, "And he makes a pretty valid point too, no matter how much you guys dislike him. Besides, he's pretty desperate, especially if he's coming to us instead of hightailing it out of here on his ship. He doesn't want to see another planet end up how yours did either."

As if to back my words, Megatron said angrily, -{ **Make no mistake. This time, there will be a planet left for me to rule.** }-

I tuned the conversation out after that, only listening with one ear as I slowly climbed up the steps to the platform everyone else was standing on. They were talking about ground-bridging to the core where Unicron's spark lay. Ratchet, of course, went ballistic, very adamant about the fact that such a jump inside a sentient being was next to impossible, (worse than attempting to get to space or targeting moving trains apparently). Then of course there was the fact that the others were not immune to the effects of dark energon like a certain Decepticon was.

Optimus, however, seemed to be seriously considering the idea, probably knowing how right Megatron was even as he weighed out the pro's and con's of the situation. Eventually, he asked, -{ **You can provide Unicron's exact coordinates?** }-

-{ **If you transport us to this planet's core, I can lead you directly into Unicron's spark, the very heart of his darkness.** }-

I could hear the sinister smile in the warlord's voice.

Still, there was one question that we still hadn't considered until Arcee voiced it.

-{ **Optimus, even if we survive the jump, how are we supposed to stop Unicron?** }-

My knuckles tightened on the railing, and my eyes slid shut too because I had a pretty good idea as to what needed to be done. And I really did not like it.

-{ **With the Matrix of Leadership.** }- Optimus eventually said with something like finality or defeated acceptance in his tone.

Even though I had been expecting it, my breath still caught slightly at the name. I now knew full well what had to happen.

Managing to at last make it up to where everyone else was, I sat down on a nearby surface, making sure to stay a little farther from everyone else while Ratchet explained the Matrix to them. I didn't really listen since I already knew so much about it from my dreams

-{ **It was the combined power of the Primes that defeated Unicron so long ago, the very reason he now seeks to destroy you.** }- Megatron said, unknowingly taking over Ratchet's history lecture.

Optimus took over from there, and as he spoke, I came to realize that he knew what had to happen too. -{ **It would follow that unleashing the power of the Matrix directly into Unicron's spark would return him to stasis.** }-

"Once again, history repeats itself anew," I murmured, though no one heard me.

"Hold on," Miko suddenly cut in, and I could sense an oncoming headache. "If 'everything goes right,' Unicron's gonna stay down there?"

"Yeah. Can't we siphon him out somehow?" Jack added, earning an approving nod from agent Fowler.

Thankfully for me and my headache, Rafael responded. "He's not in the Earth's core, Jack. He _is_ the Earth's core."

"Rafael is correct," Ratchet agreed grimly. "Tampering with your core could affect the magnetic poles, trigger the very cataclysmic events we are attempting to remedy. Tragically, Unicron is your planet's very seed. Always has been and always must be."

"And anything more or less will cause the destruction of Earth as we know it," I finally spoke, causing several people to jump at my sudden closeness, though I didn't see it as I was rubbing the bridge of my nose tiredly.

-{ **We got another one.** }- one of the others said over the comm. link and I assumed that they were talking about Unicron manifestations.

-{ **Ratchet, send the ground bridge.** }- was all I heard my Prime say after that before all communications ceased.

While we waited for the others to appear from the swirling green vortex, my mind pulled me into its currently stormy depths as the waves crashed back and forth between the rocky shores of multiple subjects.

Primus…

My task from him…

Unicron…

Optimus…

What he needed to do…

My dreams…

I groaned softly and buried my face in my hands.

"Ya alright fem?" asked a familiar gruff voice with the faintest hint of a British accent.

I looked up to see the scratched and dust coated features of Ironhide was give me a look that silently asked if I needed help.

Rubbing my face a little more with a sigh, I shook my head. "I will be once this whole fiasco is over, and I've had about a week of sleep."

He huffed a laugh, buying the half-truth. "You and me both femme. How ya feeling?"

"Like I nearly died from dark energon exposure, survived, had crippling headaches before at last passing out," I stated, causing the dark mech to roll his optics before we turned our attention to the rest of the team.

Optimus was the last to arrive through the ground-bridge, but he looked to be in better shape than I thought. That didn't mean he was going to escape the earful I was going to give him later about common sense in regards to danger.

Anyways, as soon as the red and blue mech was safely through, the verbal mutiny started.

"I know that desperate times call for desperate measures, but bringing Megatron _here_?" the Ratchet said, one decibel short of pacing.

"How can you even think about letting that monster near these children after what he did to Raf and Aria?" June put in, scowling at the mech, which didn't do any favors with me as I hadn't forgiven her completely yet.

"He will be closely monitored and only allowed to linger long enough to send us on our journey. Not one moment more," Optimus quickly addressed, optics blazing brighter than fourth of July fireworks.

Then it was Fowler's turn to voice a complaint, "What's gonna stop the 'Con from calling in an air strike if he knows where you live?"

With the patience of a saint, Optimus said, "By ground-bridging Megatron here, he will be unable to get a fix on our coordinates."

I wanted to point out that Megatron could get an idea of where we were located from the size of the missile silo and the red rock walls that surrounded us but held off when I realized how stressed my Prime probably already was.

Still, there was one question that I needed to ask him. "Optimus, what's gonna happen to you when all your Matrix energy is released?"

The Prime turned to me, and I swear I saw something, an emotion maybe, flash in his optics though it was too quick to tell. "The power within the Matrix has not previously been utilized in this particular manner," he agreed, staring at the rings of the ground-bridge. I really didn't like the sound of that, nor did I miss how he carefully avoided answering the question.

"But you have an idea, don't you?" I pushed.

He didn't answer. Instead, he turned around slowly and said in a soft voice, "Autobots, if humankind is to be saved I have no choice but to proceed." He regarded all of the Autobot's carefully. "But you do."

My eyes narrowed. For once, he wasn't ordering the others like he usually did. Instead, Optimus was telling them that this was a volunteer-only mission, that he wouldn't force any of them to come along if they didn't want to. It made him all the more endearing in my eyes but also made my stomach churn as he made it out to sound like a suicide mission (which it technically was, but that wasn't something I wanted to think about).

They all were silent. However, despite the grimness of the situation, when I looked around, all I saw were steely looks of hope and determination on the faces of both bot's and humans alike.

Finally, Bulkhead broke the silence and said, "Well, I don't know about humankind, but I'm willing to do it…for Miko."

"For Jack," Arcee said, stepping forward as well.

:{ _Raf_.}: the yellow scout said valiantly, brave as ever.

"Well I'm in," Ironhide grunted, cannons whirring a little to emphasize his point. "Got nuthin' better ta do."

Ratchet merely nodded, the look in his optics saying it all.

* * *

—Optimus Prime's POV—

Hearing the valiant words and declarations of his comrades, Optimus couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in his spark. He truly was blessed and honored to have such valiant and loyal comrades and friends. Even the humans all had varying degrees of degrees of determination written on their faces and in their eyes. They were just as committed to this endeavor as he was, willing to follow him to what might very well be their end.

He truly was blessed to have such honorable friends.

Chancing a glance in a certain human femme's direction as he turned, Optimus almost stopped in his tracks and froze like a 'Bot about to glitch when he caught the intense expression on her face. Like a freshly forged and sharpened blade, he would have to say that Aria's level of determination outclassed all of the looks he had seen in his life so far. But oddly enough, that freshly forged blade seemed to have already tasted battle, and he almost swore it was like she knew what he had to do.

Half of his processor pondering that odd detail, he barely registered as he sent a message to his former friend. "Megatron, we are sending transport."

-{ **You can always be relied upon to listen to reason, Optimus.** }- came the smug reply, and he needed little imagination to picture the unsettling grin on the gladiator's faceplates.

Gesturing for Ratchet to hide the humans, Optimus tried to mentally prepare himself.

He knew what he had to do, but planning to do something and actually doing it were two different things. To top it all off, he had no idea what would happen afterwards. Okay, so the Prime had an idea, but he could not be sure of it; and that might be for the best considering that that idea really made him want to rip out his spark.

"No fair! I've never seen him! Why do we have to hide?" he heard Miko whine.

"Because I said so!" the medic snapped.

He risked another glace at his charge and caught her optics. But it was odd because she seemed to be silently asking for his approval, nodding at the medic a little who was trying to get Miko to sit still. She almost looked lost, pleading even, as she glanced at him questioningly, like she would have preferred to stay by his side or something, even if she would be in plain view for Megatron to see. 'Are you sure you want me to go?' those sliver-grey pools asked him.

Honestly, he didn't want her to leave his sight either, but it was for the best. His spark wouldn't allow for his precious charge to be anything less than safe from harm.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

Reluctantly accepting Optimus' nod, I hid with the others, though it put a sour taste in my mouth. Still, I didn't want to argue because frankly there just wasn't enough time for bouts of human stubbornness.

Of course, that didn't stop any of us from listening in.

"So, this is where the magic happens," I heard Megatron say, his rough voice easily recognizable. "Quaint."

My lip curled in a sneer as the mech somehow made the complementary word sound like an insult. However, I wasn't the one who took it personally. And it wasn't Miko who acted foolishly for once. I know, that's a really shocker isn't it?

"Raf!" "Rafael, no!" the Darby's both called as little Raf ran out of our little alcove. For someone so small, he was pretty fast and only stopped when Jack managed to get ahold of him just inside of the Autobot's semi-circle.

"You…!" the little boy growled with a dark, angry expression on his face as he glared up at the colorless mech.

Gently, I set one of my hands of the kid's other shoulder, standing next to Jack as I glared up at Megatron.

"Ah! You're looking much better than the last time we met, little one's," he gasped with false relief at the sight of me and Raf. He wasn't even troubled by my heated 'watch your fucking step' glare or how Arcee ran in between us with both her blasters at the ready. In fact, he even seemed to find our good health amusing as his now violet optics met my grey eyes. But he didn't do anything, only chuckled a little and said, "Humans… _resilient_."

My skin crawled though I never let it show.

"Come on, Raf. He isn't worth it," Jack said in a measured tone, this time taking hold of both Rafael's shoulders in an attempt to forcibly steer him away.

Of course, that just brought Jack to the attention of the warlord. "And you. I never forget a face, even that of a human," he said smirkingly, to the raven-haired teen who had his back to the 'Con leader, only sparing the mech one glance before turning back around without a words.

Warning signs began flashing in my brain and that was all the excuse I needed to whip out my concealed handgun, flip off the safety, aim, and shoot.

 _Bang!_

All the human's jumped at the loud sound, eyes wide as they gaped at me. But I didn't see any of this as I wore one of my patented, make-your-skin-crawl, cold, Dark Phoenix grins, that never quite managed to reach my eyes as I watched fresh energon bleed from the new scrape on Megatron's right cheek.

"Be careful where you step, _Krovavyy voin_. The next one will be a little further left," I promised coldly, only lowering the gun slightly at the slip of Russian, though my eyes never left his frame. (Bloody Warrior)

However, Megatron didn't seem quite upset about the new injury as he merely wiped the dark lavender substance away with a clawed digit and inspected the amount that had accumulated on his thumb-digit. Eventually, he looked at me with that pointed-denta grin of his and said, "You have a good aim femme and sharp words. It is a pity you are not a Cybertronian as you would have been welcomed in my cause."

Out of the corner of my eyes, I didn't fail to notice how Optimus, Ratchet, and Ironhide all visibly tensed at the words.

However, before more acidic verbal projectiles could fly from my lips (or any more bullets could be shot), Miko finally (and predictably) jumped in to say her piece, effectively drawing attention from me onto her. "You double-cross anyone, mine is the face you'll never forget. Never!" the girl shrieked before Fowler grabbed her from behind and hauled her away. It was a good thing too because I was having trouble just keeping myself in check. I don't think I could have stopped Miko while fighting the urge to blind the warlord myself.

Shooting the gunmetal-grey mech one last deep, scowling glare, I backed away, making sure to never fully turn my back to him.

"Ratchet, obtain the destination coordinates from our guest," I heard Optimus order. I could hear an edge in his voice that suggested he was just as uncomfortable about Megatron being here as the rest of us. However, I guess desperate times do call for desperate measures and this was one of them, so I was in no place to complain just yet.

* * *

—Optimus Prime's POV—

If there was one thing Optimus Prime hated right now, it was this entire situation, and that was not a good sign because Primes should never hate anything so passionately as he did. Unicron was rising, his team and all of planet Earth was at risk, and now he had no other choice but to side with someone who had betrayed his trust and hurt so many that he cared about.

But that wasn't the worst of it. No, the worst part is that Megatron was here in his home and seeming to derive some twisted sense of amusement from all of this. It felt wrong, like the ex-gladiator's very presence was tainting their home. He especially loathed the idea that Megatron was even this close to his dear Aria after he almost killed her and Rafael.

Unfortunately, though, desperate times did indeed call for desperate measures, and while he loathed to place himself in a position of vulnerability before his enemy, the enemy of his enemy was indeed an unlikely ally, though he despised it.

Sighing slightly, (a very human action that he had picked up), Optimus kept one wary optic trained on the other mech, who was providing the necessary coordinates to his medic, while searching for a certain human with the other. The other Autobot's were all watching Megatron carefully, their weapons trained on him, though how much good they would do against such a skilled fighter should he decide to attack; he didn't want to find out.

Anyways, his charge thankfully wasn't too hard to locate, standing not too far away but distant enough from the others that he could do this next part with little chance of being overheard if they spoke softly enough.

"Aria," he called out softly, making the femme stop and turn around to face him, her golden braid swishing behind her like a tail. He quickly spared a glance for the others to make sure that they weren't looking this way before kneeling down a little to speak. "Will you keep something for me?"

Those grey eyes lightened a little in curiosity, head tilting to the side ever so slightly. It was a good sign in his optics because he didn't like how dark the pools of mercury had become when she had shot at Megatron. However, he wasn't sure if that or how her eyes became almost piercing, like she was peering straight into his spark and processor as she considered his request, was more unnerving. Eventually though, whatever internal battle she had going on inside her helm seemed to settle and she said slowly, "Of course."

Relieved that she had accepted, his spark pulsed lightly, like it was doing one of those human fist-pumps in celebration or a jig. Even the Matrix of Leadership pulsed once, like it approved, as he drew out the sliver and glowing-blue keycard known as the key to Vector Sigma and began to hand it to the femme. Immediately, it began to transform and shrink as he did so, until it was the size of Aria's smallest digit or perhaps even tinier.

But it was as the femme reached out and touched it that something strange seemed to happen for a brief nanoklik. He just happened to be glancing into her optics to make sure that she was really ready to carry this burden, when he swore that the sterling-silver iris' briefly flashed a bright, _glowing_ _turquoise blue_ just as her fingers came into contact with the key-card, which almost appeared to glow brighter as well. Yet, that moment was there and gone so fast that he almost swore he imagined it. Almost, but not quite.

Optimus didn't have time to ponder the odd instance however as Aria asked cautiously, "What is this?"

 _Uh-oh_. Now here came his dilemma. He knew he couldn't very well explain to her what the artifact really was for without revealing what he was really up to. Nevertheless, he also was keenly aware of how intelligent his charge was. She would probably see right through any excuse he made up. But it was his only choice.

"It is…the key to the ground bridge power supply," he invented, unable to quite look Aria in the face as he lied. He really hated doing that, especially to her. Still, he prayed to Primus that she would somehow accept the fib, however unlikely that was.

It was quiet for a moment, and he swore he could practically feel the pewter gaze boring into him, incinerating the little untruth he had cooked up, and finding the real answer hiding behind it.

"Okay."

Blue optics snapped back to her in surprise. _Wait—What?_ It didn't make sense. He must have given off a dozen different hints for her to divine that what he was saying wasn't the truth. Yet, here she was accepting it.

He studied her face, slate clashing with cyan, trying to find the reason behind it.

 _Wait_ …

It was then that he realized that Aria hadn't bought it, _at all_ , but she was choosing to accept it anyways. It was all there in her optics and the meaningful look she gave him; it said 'yes, I know that you are lying, but I'm choosing to accept it anyways.' He wondered why she would do that before he saw the look on her face and all the pieces came together: trust. _She trusted him_. It was a realization that shook him to the core and filled his spark with pride and joy.

Optimus knew that the femme trusted few and far in-between, and those instances still held a level of mistrust and wariness as she kept herself from placing all her faith in one person. But now she seemed willing to do so with him of all beings. He was truly honored by this rare instance…and saddened too.

If only she knew what he was about to do to her.

"Shouldn't Ratchet have this though?"

Of course, the giving of that most precious gift wasn't going to stop her from making it difficult for him apparently either. He needed to step lightly, otherwise he'd be caught in this verbal minefield she had set out for him.

"Perhaps," he agreed thoughtfully, processor working quickly. "But I've been impressed by how much you have matured since we first met. As such, I feel you have earned the responsibility of safeguarding this important device until I return."

He said this all honestly, mean every word from the bottom of his spark, inadvertently trying to cleanse his moment of untruthfulness with a spark-filled truth. He only had a moment of sourness when he realized that only he may be the only one who had an idea of what he really meant by the words "until I return."

Aria was quiet for a moment, obviously thinking before she declared bravely, "I won't let you down."

His optics brightened, and he wanted to smile. _I know you won't, little one_.

They lapsed into silence after that, and many unspoken things seemed to pass between them as they locked gazes.

There were so many things that he wished he could say, but so little he could think of to verbalize. However, he was intent upon saying his piece before he left.

"Look after them for me while I'm gone, little one. They look up to you more than you know," he whispered, not just talking about the other humans. Then, with a slight sense of familiarity and odd longing, emptiness in his spark, he said, "Until all are One, Aria Slade-Cage of Earth."

The pain grew, and it felt like a piece of his spark was torn away as he gently brushed her hair behind her audials and stroked her soft cheek. Even his lip components twitched and curved a little as they either tried to smile or frown; he wasn't sure which.

* * *

—Aria's POV, Before Optimus gives her the key—

My whole body was still tensed with anger as I walked away, following the others at a distance. I was really starting to hate this ominous shroud over my head that wouldn't leave me alone, seeming to follow me around like a shadow of death. I could feel my blonde braid bouncing against my back, but I paid it no mind. I was too distracted by this feeling that this was ' _the moment_ ' as my screaming instincts put it. There was some faint whispering too, but I couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from or hear what most of the feather-light voices were saying.

But as the seconds ticked by, the whispering got louder and more distinguishable despite the fact they were as loud as the flap of a butterfly's wings in my ear. Still, I suddenly got the impression that I was the only one who could hear it.

" _The time has come_ ," the voices whispered, words echoing in a ghostly manner.

" _He offers…_ "

"… _accept…_ "

" _Take charge._ "

The time was drawing near. At least, I think it was, or I was going insane.

Panicking slightly, all negative feelings only abated slightly when I heard the sound of familiar pede-steps coming from close behind, shaking the ground slightly as their owner approached me.

"… _destiny…_ "

" _You must accept…_ "

"… _rising darkness that is to come._ "

"Aria," Optimus called, causing me to stop and turn, blonde braid slapping my shoulder a little though I paid it no mind. If Optimus heard it, he didn't give any indicators that his did as he glanced at the other 'Bots briefly before kneeling and asking gently, "Will you keep something for me?"

"… _play a part…_ "

" _He offers…_ "

"… _accept…_ "

" _Accept…_ "

" _ACCEPT!_ "

I almost winced at the volume of the last voice but managed to tone it down so that only one of my fingers twitched. However, the voices faded once again after that into unintelligible muttering, though this time it was louder, like bees in their hive. But, I now understood this time, remembering Primus' words from that strange dream.

Was this it? Or was I simply losing my marbles? For all I know, all my dreams could be derived from being an imaginative (and possibly crazy) mechanic.

Suddenly, it was like I could hear the Cybertronian deity as he spoke one single word in my mind before everything went quiet in my mind: " _Choose_."

In a split second, I made my choice: "Of course."

 _I accept_.

At the words, though he didn't smile exactly, I noticed how Optimus seemed almost relived as I felt, as he drew out an oddly shaped item. It was flat and kind of wide. It looked to be made of some kind of slivery metal and a glowing, blue-ish material that made me think of a cross between energon and a circuit board as it was sent into the metal. The entire thing seemed to be brand new, but I knew it was way older than it looked as the object transformed in Optimus digits until it was smaller than my pinkie.

Reaching out to the offered item, I just barely touched it when something strange happened. It all happened in under a second, but the whatever-it-was gave off a small zap of static electricity when my finger touched it, seeming to momentarily glow brighter in that sparse second, as an image flashed before my eyes.

 _In an ancient and deep cavern-like room, a light blue glow lit up the pitch-blackness. There were these odd circuit-like designs that were faintly cybertronian in nature that glowed a sky blue, branching out from a circular area on the floor and reaching the bottom of the chamber's walls. An intricate sort of walkway reached out to the middle of the design with a rounded rectangle portion on the edge of it that glowed the brightest. But the most inspiring part was the large ball of energy that hovered in the middle of the area and burned like a small star with a whitish-baby blue color. The cluster of energy was blindingly bright, seemed to fluctuate and move, twisting, turning, and almost dancing as it pulsated and hummed lowly like a men's bass choir as two glowing rings twisted around the sphere. It was like a cybertronian version of a time-turner, large, metallic, and ancient but clean and new looking._

Then the image was gone, replaced by an almost surprised-looking Optimus, who regarded me with an indecipherable look. But, that was it; if he saw anything like I did, he didn't mention it."

Eventually, I found my tongue and asked, "What is this?" studying the object in my hand a little.

"It is…the key to the ground bridge power supply," Optimus said, not quite meeting my eyes, and I knew he wasn't telling me the truth.

Honestly, if it had been anyone else, I probably would have called them out on lying. It just wasn't one of those things I approved of. But this was Optimus, and I knew for a fact that he would not lie to me without an outstanding reason. That isn't to say that I wasn't more than a little curious about what he was keeping from me, but I trusted him.

"Okay," I eventually acquiesced, causing the Prime's optics to snap back to me in surprise. He had probably been expecting me to call him out as well. But as he studied my face, I guess he found the answer he was looking for because his frame relaxed slightly and his optics brightened.

But being the devious bitch that I am, that didn't mean I was going to make it easy for him.

"Shouldn't Ratchet have this though?" I prodded.

His optics narrowed slightly at me, knowing quite well what I was doing. If he wanted to lie like that to my face, he was going to have to reason his way out of his pickle otherwise I would call him out. Nonetheless, I was pleased when he decided to play along.

"Perhaps," he agreed thoughtfully. "But I've been impressed by how much you have matured since we first met. As such, I feel you have earned the responsibility of safeguarding this important device until I return."

I felt my cheeks start to warm at the honest words.

Anyways, now you are probably wondering why I am letting him off the hook if I knew he wasn't telling me the truth, (or at least the whole truth), especially if lying was one of my pet peeves. It's a reasonable question, and my answer to it is kind of surprising to me as well: I trusted him, maybe more than I probably should. And I think he knew that too.

So, trying to use the manners Raoul had tried to instill in me so long ago, I promised valiantly, "I won't let you down."

Those blazing cyan orbs brightened at the words, something like shining pride in them.

In any case, both of us fell into silence after that. Time was running out; we both knew that, but there were no words that passed our lips as we merely shared many unspoken words with just a simple look.

There were no smiles either—at least not physically visible ones—mainly because we didn't require them. We could just tell by the brightness and emotions we could see in the others' gaze. No words were needed because we both understood.

Was I happy with this scenario? No, most definitely not. He was walking headlong into danger like the idiot who thought he was invincible and tried to walk through an active warzone without any protection whatsoever. But unlike that idiot, Optimus had to do this, and I knew that. I just wished that it didn't have to be him.

Finally, Optimus imparted his last words to me, damn near shattering my stone mask with a need for a waterfall of tears and a quavering smile.

"Look after them for me while I'm gone, little one. They look up to you more than you know," he whispered with a somber expression, and I got the feeling he was talking about everyone, not just the humans. "Until all are One, Aria Slade-Cage of Earth."

Despite the amusing sense of déjà vu the familiar words gave me, my stupid heart started to hurt again. Optimus must have seen it in my eyes because he then sweetly tucked some stray hairs behind my left ear, warm digit then lingering on my cheek in a gentle caress. I think I even saw his lipplates tremble a little too, like he was experiencing a similar onslaught of emotions.

There was just so much left to say and not enough time to say it all in; and this send-off felt a little too final for me.

However, determined to impart my own words to my dear guardian, I ignored the odd, 'not physical but definitely feels like it' pain in my chest in favor of saying my piece to him, grasping the gentle digit at my cheek with my own small hand and giving it a slight squeeze as I spoke. "I will, just so long as you stay safe, Sangroyal," I murmured, wanting to smile, but lacking the strength of will to do so. Then, completing the little ritual, I managed to choke out, "'Til all are One, Optimus Prime of Cybertron."

It was in that moment, as he began to turn away and the pain increased tenfold—becoming something akin to when I had to leave Izzy except several times worse—that an old Shakespearean line came to mind, and I found that it somehow perfectly described this situation for me.

" _Parting is such sweet sorrow"_ , I mentally quoted with a melancholy note as a single tear fell. _I just don't know if I'll ever see him again though_.

Watching as he shot me one last look before turning away to face the others, I shook my head a little. _No, don't think like that. You will see him again_.

But as they all disappeared through the ground bridge (minus Ratchet), a small whisper managed to escape my lips, "Stay safe my Sangroyal. Stay safe."

* * *

—Optimus Prime's POV—

At last walking away from his charge, Optimus felt glad that he had listened to his spark and had given Aria the key. He had had his doubts about it at first when the Matrix had started hinting at it, mainly because he didn't want to risk her health, but looking back on it now, it just seemed like the right thing to do as both his spark and the Matrix hummed contentedly in his sparkchamber.

He didn't know what awaited him once all the energy of the Matrix was unleashed upon the Chaos-Bringer's spark. For all he knew, he could very well be signing his own death warrant. But he knew he had to try; this was his destiny.

And if he died, the only regret he had now—aside from being unable to protect his team any longer—was leaving Aria behind before he could figure out what these odd feelings and pains in his spark were.

Ignoring some of the glances he got from his team and the suspicious look Megatron shot him as he returned, Optimus listened as Ratchet declared that they were "locked and ready."

"You first," Arcee told Megatron with obvious mistrust in her optics, gesturing at the ground-bridge.

However, despite the barbed tone of her words, Megatron merely placed his left servo over his spark and bowed, saying, "As you wish." He only stopped once to glance at something beyond the Prime's frame—Aria—before disappearing through the green vortex, causing the rest of the Autobot's the follow suit one-by-one after sparing glances for the group of humans that now stood close. Finally, Optimus was the last to go through, sharing a nod with Aria.

Little did he know that that picture of his charge and the rest of the humans standing there, watching them go, was going to be the last image of base he would see for a while.

* * *

Arriving at Megatron's provided coordinates, the inside of the Chaos-Bringer was no less than Optimus expected. Dark, dimly-lit, and altogether dreary and depressing, violet energon lines—one of which they stood on like a walkway—that undoubtedly flowed with dizzying amounts of dark energon provided most of the lighting they needed to see. Already, Optimus started to feel the draining pull thanks to the dark substance that surrounded them and this odd pressure in the air that he couldn't seem to escape.

But the most disturbing part was how silent it was inside the ginormous titan, who would have probably made them look like glitch-mice if this was how large his chassis were. Nothing except the beat of the ancient cybertronian's spark could be heard, and that was an ominous sound indeed. Nonetheless, all was still and nothing except this small group seemed to move, though he swore he could feel that there was something watching them. Or rather _someone_.

"So…how long before Unicron knows we're here?" Arcee dared to ask a minute after the ground-bridge closed behind them.

Megatron turned to look at them with a grim expression on his faceplates. "Make no mistake, he already does."

* * *

Thank you Megatron for those oh-so encouraging words. NOT!

Anyways, I hope you guys liked the fluffiness of this chapter and will be kind enough to obey my **5-Review Policy** to tell me about it and/or will favorite this story and/or follow it. Please, please, please check out my poll! I have a new one up that I think you guys would like since it's about super-powers. Again, you can tack on your vote to your review and I will count it.

Please Review and have a glorious day!


	30. A Love Lost

This is it! Here is the chapter you all have been waiting for as it puts all your efforts to use. Personally, I was about ready to start crying when I wrote it, but that's all I will say aside from the fact that, yes, the key to Vector Sigma is even smaller in here for what I'm about to do to it.

Anyways, I wish to acknowledge a select and unique few, and they are: **gwencarson126** , **Waterfront** , **Steelcode** , **bajy** , **Sfrizz5959** , **Sakura9544** , **avatarange** , **Guest (1)** , **X Valkyrie Prime X** , **Cinematronix** , **b. marr** , **Guest (2)** , as well as those who favorited and followed me. Thank you all! I honestly found it amusing how everyone liked the part where Aria shot Megatron.

To **Cinematronix** : I have to say I like how you phrased that. Very poetic.

To **Guest (2)** : I'm guessing that you are a Voltron fan then, eh? Then you should know that around chapter 33, I am going to adapt an idea from Voltron to my story. It's not going to be obvious, but if you remember enough details from a certain episode, you should recognize the idea. Anyways, I feel for you. Having no internet point blank sucks.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformer Prime or any other recognizable works.

* * *

 **Chapter 30: A Love Lost**

As I've said more than once before, there's nothing more frustrating for people like me than being on the sidelines for an important operation. When you've spent most of your life constantly in motion and in the middle of the action, it's tough to take on a supporting role—particularly when you can't do anything but sit on your ass, twirl your batons around and around, and wait and pray for good news.

Speaking for myself in particular, I don't do well with down-time. My idea of R & R is "recon and renditions" so I don't exactly cherish days off—especially being confined to base with no way to know if the others were alright. The unknown really was maddening. I think that's part of the reason why I try to stay so detached and distant from others. When you get distracted in the field wondering if your close cybertronian friend was alright, bad things tend to happen, especially on the streets.

" _More than sixty volcanoes are erupting worldwide, and downtown Honolulu is under six inches of snow! Scientists continue to devise there is connections between unprecedented natural disasters with the planetary alignment which—_ " the newscaster was saying on the green monitors before the signal suddenly cut out, showing a several stipes of colors and emitting a low-toned beep.

"So. Who wants to play a game?" June tried weakly, trying to lighten the mood but failing spectacularly.

We all were too out of it to focus on anything except playing this maddening waiting game in the meantime. I didn't even feel like rolling my eyes in exasperation or bother to turn from my spot on the railing overlooking the monitors to shoot June a look. I was just as lost as everyone else, maybe even more so. In a way, I could equate the mess of emotions I felt to drowning in a storm at sea: rough and chaotic when I tried to focus on staying afloat and keeping my head above water, and near clam and silent when I was dragged below the crashing waves to float in a confused, cool world as darkness closed in, unaware of which direction was up. I was just so lost and confused.

But like me, Fowler seemed to be unable to bear the waiting, practically exploding several minutes into the tense silence once he reached his breaking point. "That tears it!" he declared with a growl, marching towards the lift.

"Where are you going?" June asked him.

The man whirled on her, a frantic note in his voice as he declared, "I can't just sit on my hands when the world spins out of control!" All the while, I watched as he waved his arms empathetically, fist clenching and unclenching.

"And what exactly is that that you intend to do?" Ratchet asked sharply.

 _And how do you intend to get anywhere with this crazy weather either?_ I mentally added, glancing at the high natural ceiling like I could see the storm outside. _I bet that a lot of communications are down thanks to this crazy global catastrophe_.

"Anything!" the man nearly shouted, frustration evident in his features. "Hook up with my boys at the Pentagon, figure out a way to bury that monster for good!"

"In the event Optimus can't?" Ratchet retorted as I likewise bristled at the inadvertent insult to my Prime.

I am seriously not exaggerating when I say that my emotional control is hanging by a thread.

"Don't you mean 'Optimus _and Megatron_ '?" Fowler corrected snidely.

If he were human, I could just imagine seeing a vein throb in the medic's temple while he tried his best to rein in his temper. "No one here is thrilled about this arrangement, Agent Fowler," he said tersely. "Myself included. But with Optimus and Megatron together again—"

"Whoa, wait, 'again'?" Jack cut in, appalled like everyone else was.

I, however, merely tilted my head a little to listen better, welcoming the distraction, (though still keeping one ear out for any incoming comm. link calls).

"Megatron was an Autobot?" Raf questioned while Miko said at the same time, "Optimus was a ' _Con_?"

I merely sighed before suddenly speaking in a quiet, subdued tone, "You're talking about Megatronus and Orion Pax aren't you?"

This earned a surprised look from the medic as his attention snapped to me. "I—yes. How did you know about that Aria?" he asked, optics slightly wide.

However, I shook my head, unwilling to elaborate. "Never you mind."

He eyed me a little after that, studying her, before shaking his helm and turning back to the others who still looked confused. "Anyways, no on either account, Rafael, Miko…

"But, there was a time, back on Cybertron, in the twilight hours of the Golden Age, when Optimus and Megatron were not sworn enemies," the CMO began to tell us while I closed my eyes, laying back in a precarious position on the railing. To anyone else, it would have appeared that I was quite relaxed, sleepy even. However, if you had the eye for it, you would see how my relaxed muscles still held visible tension, more than ready to anticipate an attack or something along those lines that required an immediate response.

"Do you recall when I mentioned that Optimus wasn't always a Prime? And he wasn't always Optimus, either. He was once a clerk, in the Iacon Hall of Records, named Orion Pax."

I could see it now in my mind's eye, images of a very much alive Cybertron, with city lights gleaming visibly on the cybernetic planet, even from outer-space.

I watched as the image then zoomed in until I was looking at a humongous but no less enchanting building, standing proud and tall among a booming city that looked like it could function as a capable fortress of protection as well. However, that particular building, with a cylindrical design and dome-like roof, looked more than capable of holding off a violent siege if the need arose.

"But as he learned more about Cybertron's past, he grew increasingly concerned about the present corruption in high places, an inequality among the masses."

I got even closer, peering inside the building and found a familiar landscape. A large maze of shelves containing these flat devices—data-pads, I think they were called—by the dozens. It wasn't too bright in that bookworm's wet dream, but there was enough light coming from a room filled with monitors with a central data terminal that a young mech stood working at.

It was that young, wide-eyed and slightly naïve Optimus look-alike from my dreams: Orion Pax. He worked diligently at the computers, typing away with skilled precision that spoke of extreme practice, and frowning lightly to himself. All the screens were displaying multitudes of different information, and it was a wonder that anyone could keep up with it all. However, the young mech seemed troubled, shaking his helm and occasionally muttering something to himself. Whatever he seemed to glean from the information displayed, it made his achingly familiar optics dim slightly as his optic ridges furrowed, once or twice looking frustrated even.

"Orion became inspired by the words and ideas of a gladiator," Ratchet pressed on as my mental scene changed.

It now showed that horrible arena I had seen Orion visit once in my dreams. The crowd was roaring in approval as a monstrous and alien beast, covered in armor and spikes galore, dropped dead on the energon-stained ground. Above, standing atop the carcass in a victorious pose, was Megatron, or rather _Megatronus_. Scarred frame already sporting a litany of new injuries, he was roaring and smiling at the cheering spectator in triumph, a triangular shield on his left arm and a sword in his right servo.

"—one who had named himself after one of the thirteen original Primes: _**Megatronus**_. Megatronus vowed to challenge Cyberton's leadership and demand that all Cybertronian's be treated as equals."

I could practically hear it now, the raspy voice of Megatron speaking out against the caste system they were all subject too. And despite all the naysayers, his words reached the sparks and processors of many. Even now, I could still recall the moving words I had once heard the gladiator utter in a dream I had had long before I met the Autobot's.

"This gladiator turned revolutionary rapidly to gather loyal following. Soundwave chief among them."

A smile formed at that, seeing the quiet mech standing loyally behind the grey mech as he gave his speeches and rallied followers. Though he may have been a Decepticon, I think Soundwave's loyalty and devotion to Megatron would forever astound and amaze me.

"Orion began corresponding with Megatronus who came to be something of the mentor to him. As Megatronus left the gladiatorial arena for the political, he saw fit to shorten his name."

The scene changed once again, and I watched once again as they two mech's finally met. It wasn't until later that a steady friendship began to form between the archivist and gladiator, despite their caste's. They would talk for hours about issues, proposing ideas and solutions to the problems during their long talks. Alpha Trion and a mech whose name I once heard was Jazz seemed to encourage the relationship between the two mechs, though the former seemed to hope that young Orion would temper some of Megatronus' more violent ways.

"Before long, Megatron appeared before the High Council to propose his vision for a just society. And it was here that he began to reveal his true colors, proclaiming the need to overthrow the old Guard with force and arrogantly demanding to be named the next Prime."

The two mech's stood before the council in a high-ceilinged room with what looked like a stained-glass window in the background. Megatron was standing in the center on a small dais of light as he spoke. But with one glance into the former gladiator's blue optics, you could see the old hatred still burning bright, derived from vorns of learned scorn and pain.

"But Orion did not believe in violence as a means of achieving justice. The sparks and minds of the Council were moved by Orion's words. Here, for the first time since Cybertron's Golden Age, stood someone worthy of being a Prime."

Suddenly, amid all the chaos that ensued from the soon-to-be warlord's violent words, a new voice rang out. Sweet little Orion Pax, while young and somewhat awkward, spoke out this time, his words just as moving as the gladiator's speeches but carrying with them a wisdom beyond his years. He pointed out, like his companion had, that the caste system left no room for others to grow while social injustices prevailed. He knew that change needed to be brought about, proposing newer and more ideal solutions to the problems of their society, while trying to discourage any type of violent action.

It really was a moving moment.

"But that honor could only truly be achieved by earning the legendary Matrix of Leadership," Ratchet said with a small sigh.

I saw Megatron storm out of the council's chamber's, imparting some not-so-nice words to his now former friend while the council tried to convince the Iaconian archivist to accept the title of Prime. Amazingly, the young mech refused at first, though it may have been out of grief for losing one who he considered a friend. But that would never change the fact that that was the day that changed everything.

"His ambitions thwarted, Megatron spitefully severed all ties with Orion and the Council, and came to wage war on all who opposed him through his growing army of followers which he named 'Decepticons'. He vowed to claim the Matrix for himself, wherever it might lie."

The war began and the Megatron I knew was born; his optics now a horrifying blood-red. As if on extreme fast forward, I watched all the memories I had from dreams of the war and more all pass by in life-like high definition as the Decepticon insignia burned bright in the background.

"In time, warfare consumed Cybertron, poisoning the planet to its core. Orion journeyed there, hoping to reverse the ill effects and found himself before the very Spark of our life-giver— Primus himself.

Giant blue veins, lines of energon, suddenly be turned violet and dull as dark energon as the the core, Primus' spark, dimmed. Meanwhile, the last of the Thirteen Ancient Prime's, Alpha Trion, encouraged Orion on that one fateful day, to go to the core to see if anything could be done to save the primordial being. But poor Orion only arrived upon a spark-breaking sight, knowing that there was little he could do to spare the ailing being.

"The ailing Primus sensed the innate nobility within Orion and bestowed the Matrix upon him. It was thus that the surprised and humbled Orion Pax came to be Optimus, the last of the Primes."

The last images I saw before opening my eyes at last was the core of Cybertron blazing bright, a light shooting from it and enveloping the mech as he was granted the prized relic of the Primes. But when the light faded, a new mech—yet similar to Orion at the same time—was revealed: Optimus Prime.

Sitting up at last as my position was becoming uncomfortable, a small chuckle escaped me, finding some irony in the story. "'Today a reader, tomorrow a leader'," I quoted, causing the medic to snort a little too, having been the only one who caught my words.

It was quiet after that as everybody processed what they had been told. However, sparing a glance at each of them, a newfound respect could be seen shining in their eyes for my Prime.

Unconsciously, I straightened a little in pride at that, glad that Optimus was _my_ guardian.

Eventually, Miko asked, "So, Optimus got a Matrix from Cybertron's core, and now he's gonna give it to Earth's?"

I merely raised a golden brow. She was just now figuring this all out?

"What's to stop Megatron from just claiming the Matrix for himself this time around?" Jack piped in, still sounding subdued like the rest.

"Only his greater desire to save this planet so that he may in turn conquer it!" Ratchet scoffed, adding sardonically, "As he so compellingly argued, provided the Lord of the Decepticons can ever be fully trusted."

A sigh escaping me, I merely turned back to the monitors as I nibbled my lip, waiting.

* * *

—Optimus Prime's POV—

Optimus was starting to understand Ironhide and his paranoid, itchy-digit tendencies a little better now. Ever since they had arrived, there had been _nothing_ out of the ordinary, as in nothing but their little group had moved. It was just too quiet; and he could only imagine how the real Ironhide was faring.

"Unicron's Spark is near," Megatron rumbled, violet-colored optics retaining a very ominous light as he glanced around. It was the first time any of them had spoken in quite some time since first arriving inside the awakening titan, and it made Optimus' digit's twitch at the need to wince due to how _loud_ Megatron's voice was.

Even with the echoing pound of the Chaos-Bringer's spark growing ever stronger in his audials, something about this whole situation did not sit right with the Prime. He wouldn't even bother mentioning the increasing feeling of dread, nor how he felt like they were being followed, or how Megatron's Decepticon insignia was glowing brighter.

In any case, he hoped that Megatron was not leading them wrong. They had been walking for what felt like leagues, and the surrounding sources of dark energon were starting to affect to him and his teammates. Even the warlord seemed to be effected, though in a different way, suffering from mild visions due to his connection with the Unmaker.

"After you," Arcee said curtly after walking ahead a bit. The femme obviously did not trust the Decepticon leader in the slightest.

Megatron merely showed a surprising amount of strength and nodded.

Nearby, Bulkhead groaned, clutching his helm and swaying a little where he stood.

:{ _Whoa, you okay there Bulkhead?_ }: the yellow scout bleeped, speaking for the first time since they had arrived.

"I'm fine, Bee," the green mech assured. "Just…woozy."

"The dark energon. It's starting to affect him," Arcee realized, stating the obvious. "Steady as you go Bulk."

Beside him, Ironhide grumbled something along the lines of not liking this, probably even adding in a bit about itching to shoot something with his cannons, though the Prime didn't catch all the words.

And then it happened.

It started with this unnerving, gurgling sound, like somebot was trying to power up their cannon underwater. It came from all around, but Optimus could sense a dark intent looming upon them. Around them, the veins of dark energon glowed even brighter, including the one they were using as a walkway. To make things worse, the feelings of nausea increased as well, making it hard to think straight.

Megatron, however, while tensing slightly in preparation to fight, remained more stoic, like he knew this was coming. "He is preparing to expel us," was all he said right before the fight began.

Screeching horribly like the Unicron incarnates they were, several oddly shaped… _things_ flew into the air. Colored a deep black like the place they dwelled in and sporting luminescent bio-lights the color of poisoned amethyst, they were distinctly cybertronian in nature, though Optimus doubted that they were ever fully sentient. There were what seemed to be hundreds of these things, all with the same single glowing optic, tentacles, and weird bodies. But there was something about them that just didn't sit right with the Prime, almost unnerving him to his very core; they were just unnatural, abominations even.

"What are those things?" Bulkhead asked as they all prepared their weapon's to fight while the horde circled above them.

Trying to figure out where they would strike first, Optimus watched carefully while doing his best to answer his comrade's question. "As we are within Unicron's body, it stands to reason they are some sort of antibody," he said, battle mask in place and transforming his right servo into its gun mode.

Some naïve part of him had hoped that maybe the looming swarm would not attack if they did not disturb them, but that was proven false a second later when they warped-insect-like monstrosities suddenly dove at them.

And the fight began.

United with one goal in mind, all of them began firing together, and many of the 'antibodies' exploded and fell while still more charged, firing their own blasts of red energy at them. All was chaos and ruin around them as the battle began to heat up. There were just so many, and there just seemed to be an endless swarm of them, too!

Soon enough, Optimus was forced to reconfigure his right servo into a blade, slicing one of the Chaos-Bringers' spawn in half while he kept firing with his left. Internally, he growled, knowing that they could not keep this up forever.

Somehow in the thick of all the confusion and chaotic battle, Optimus managed to lose sight of his comrades. Occasionally, he would hear them calling out to each other, but that was it as he was forced to focus on the swarm of enemies intent upon ending his life. He sent up a swift prayer that they were alright.

Eventually, he found himself backed against Megatron, who was fighting as well as any champion gladiator would against the onslaught of attackers bombarding him. If Megatron was going to betray them, now was as good a time as any to finish him. It wouldn't take much for the other mech to simply turn around and blast him in the spark with his ion cannon. The mech could just then later lie and say that their attackers had overwhelmed him, and he had been unable to reach Optimus in time. It wouldn't be much of a challenge for the other mech with the confusion going on around them.

However, the warlord did none of this as they both fought back-to-back, continuing to cover the others' six. Thanks to centuries of fighting, they knew each other's moves all too well and worked together in seamless harmony, becoming an almost unstoppable force of destruction.

If he wasn't so busy trying to survive, Optimus probably would have felt nostalgic, once again fighting alongside the one he had once considered a brother.

But this wasn't the time to reminisce. He had a planet to save, a charge to protect, and a Chaos-Bringer to fight.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

With unwavering attention, I watched the green monitor's like a hawk, frowning when the search for the other Autobot's communication links came up inconclusive. Again.

"Communication links are down as expected," Ratchet reported to no one in particular. "But we've lost their signal."

Poor little Raf looked worried at that, clutching the top of the railing tightly. He, like the rest of us with appointed guardians were worried about the welfare of our bots. "Doesn't that mean…?"

"Usually," the medic admitted before adding lightly, "But the more likely explanation would be the severe interference caused by these electromagnetic anomalies."

A grunting sound escaped me in acknowledgement, but I didn't say much else; it was a logical explanation though I didn't like it.

In any case, Raf's expression morphed into something akin to a kicked puppy pouting, brown eyes wide. "So, if we can't track them and they can't contact us—"

"—How are we gonna know they are ready for pickup?" Miko finished, ludicrous puffy pigtails seeming to sag with the weight of her emotions. Both of them obviously needed some kind of assurance.

Meanwhile, I had taken the little keycard Optimus had given me and was flipping the tiny device over my knuckles, moving it from one side of my hand to the other in an absentminded manner. Aside from keeping my fingers busy, it didn't do much, but somehow the fact that it was given to me by Optimus eased the unease I felt.

"Where did you get that?"

Grey eyes snapped upwards to find the medic not looking at me per say, but gaping in surprise at the device balanced on my nimble fingers. He appeared almost disturbed in a way, like he had just come to a horrible conclusion.

"Optimus," I answered simply, after giving it one last flip. With cautious and narrowed eyes, I observed the mech's expression warily. Something about how surprised he was, just did not sit well with me. "He told me it was the key to the ground-bridge power supply."

Ratchet shook his helm vigorously. "Aria, there is no key to the ground-bridge power supply."

Narrowed eyes grew to steely slits despite the fact that I already had an idea. "What, is this then?" I asked, surveying the tiny key card more closely as it pulsed brightly for a moment.

There was a wary look now in Ratchet's blue optics as he crouched lower to my level, trying to get a better look at it. " _That_ is the key to Vector Sigma."

"The what?!" I repeated as the name struck a familiar chord in my memory. _Vector Sigma? Where have I heard that before?_

"You are holding one of Cybertron's most important relics."

The statement was so unexpected; I blanched.

"I— I shouldn't have this," I said, wide eyed as my hands started to shake with dread. Have I mentioned yet how much I was really disliking that feeling of increasing foreboding in my stomach?

In any case, when I tried to offer it to the mech, Ratchet backed away, holding up his servo's in a warding off gesture. "Optimus entrusted it to you, Aria."

Internally, I scoffed with no small amount of dry or dark humor. _He trusts_ _ **me**_ _? Mister-white-knight-in-shining-armor trusts_ _ **me**_ _, Miss-I'm-not-who-I-say-I-am and my-secrets-have-secrets? Yeah, that's a really, really, big mistake on his part. The words 'trust' and 'Aria' should never be put in the same sentence as it is grammatically invalid._

"But that doesn't make any sense," I finally voiced. Optimus barely knew anything about me, and he chose to trust me anyways. That fact caused only one question to come to mind: "Why?"

It didn't make sense. Ever since my two mentors had taken me under their wings during my time on the streets, they had drilled it into my brain that you should never trust anyone you didn't know jack-squat about for certain. Actually, they had told me that trust was more of a luxury for those who could afford the cost that came with it, but you get the idea. So why did Optimus trust me of all people with something so important? Someone who was human no less?

Ratchet, taking the question as more of a 'why did he lie and have me hold onto this incredibly important artifact?' kind of why question, answered with a sort of morbid realization. Yet, his response did little to comfort and only served to officially confirm that horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Because he doesn't plan on coming back."

As soon as I processed that sentence, my mind blanked as a pair of grey eyes bugged. "What?!"

 _I think I'm going to be sick._

* * *

—Optimus Prime's POV—

Hack, slash, turn, shoot, duck, spin, cut, blast. Those—and many more—were the words to describe the movements Optimus Prime was currently familiarizing himself with as he, his team, and Megatron fought their way through the maze that was inside the awakening titan. There was just no point in trying to fight off the swarm of antibodies trying to offline them. They were losing precious time already, and they needed to work quickly before Unicron was fully awakened.

Suddenly, Megatron let out a bellow of pain behind him, clutching his helm like he was trying to keep it from splitting apart. His optics were shining even more brightly than ever as the Decepticon insignia on his broad chassis flared in color as well. But glancing into his former friend's optics he could visibly see a battle of wills contesting against one another almost like…Unicron was trying to control the warlord.

"Megatron!" he called as the mech regarded him with a thunderous expression. Despite their differences, Optimus wanted to help, turning a little to see him better.

That was a huge mistake on his part, and he nearly died had Megatron not pulled him to the side and blasted the incoming antibody to smithereens.

"Unicron's spark lies just beyond!" the larger mech told him over the cacophony of the fight, gesturing to the large circular door behind him.

Despite his exhaustion however, Optimus was no less sharp, and he didn't fail to notice how the hatch was firmly sealed. "How do we get inside?" he called, following close behind.

"By fooling Unicron's defenses into believing we're not a threat."

Optics narrowing at the ominous reply, he opted to merely nod, letting Megatron do whatever he needed to do, while he covered for the mech. Almost too soon though, he glanced to find the door opened and Megatron slipping inside.

He issued one final order to his friends. "Autobots! I will need you to keep our attackers at bay for as long as you can."

 _This is it_.

"Go! We got ya covered, Prime!" Ironhide called, beloved cannons whirring almost gleefully.

The last thing he heard as he disappeared into the dark entrance and the hatch closing behind him—was his friends cheering his designation, saying, "For Optimus!"

Expression hidden behind his battle mask, he smiled fondly before racing as fast as his pedes would carry him to the Unmaker's spark.

"Optimus! Swiftly!" Megatron called once he arrived, pointing a clawed digit at the large lavender sphere of energy hovering in the middle of the cavern that was the titan's sparkchamber. In a fashion, it was almost ironic that something so innately evil could even possess a spark. This ball of pure malice and malevolence was nothing like the kind warmth he had felt in the presence of Primus' spark. Unicron truly was the exact opposite of the life-giving and benevolent Maker.

In any case, Optimus stepped forward, knowing without a doubt that this was what he had to do. However, halfway there, the Destroyer's spark suddenly reacted, throwing out a wave of crippling energy and forcing him to his knees with a cry. Behind him, Megaton did not sound much better off as he bellowed again.

Turning, his optic widened at the terrific sight. Gladiatorial blade drawn, Megatron's optics and crest gave off a smoking—for lack of a better word—aura like purple fire. But the Prime could do nothing as the mech advanced, limbs weakened and sapped of energy from that blast. For the second time in twenty-four hours, he was expecting his life to end right there at Megatron's hand. But like before, it never came, as the former gladiator fought against the Chaos-Bringer's control. The bladed servo that was raised in the air quavering as the two beings fought, preventing that fatal stroke from falling. Somehow though, the mech managed to grasp the servo with the extended blade, retracting it forcibly with grit denta."

"Megatron…is…commanded…by…no one!" the mech roared, glaring at the giant spark like Ironhide did training dummies.

Little did Optimus know about how the whole Earth began to shake as the final hour approached. He just knew he couldn't take the cries of agony tearing their way from the warlord's vocalizer before he finally collapsed; this had to stop.

Summoning every last vestige of strength, hidden or otherwise, Optimus groaned a little as he tried to sit a little straighter with no small amount of strain.

"Matrix of Leadership!" he began to say, determined to see this through. "I call upon you!"

As if the proper words to an ancient incantation had been spoken, Optimus felt the ancient relic respond in his sparkchamber.

Then suddenly, Megatron, no _Unicron_ , was on his pedes again, using the gladiator's body as a conduit as violet fire consumed his entire frame. " **You cannot defeat me, disciple of Primus!** " the Destroyer declared in two-toned harmony. " **I have transcended physical being! By my will alone all upon this world shall fall into chaos!** "

Only one word flashed through his processor: _No!_

"Not while I still function, Unicron!" he declared, rising to his pedes. "The power of the Matrix will light our darkest hour!"

Too late, Megatron-Unicron realized what was going on. " **Nooo!** "

And then Optimus opened his chassis and unleashed a torrent of energy upon the chaos-incarnates' spark.

Looking back at it, it was odd, in a way. As the power of the Matrix shot out of his open sparkchamber towards the Unmaker's spark, time seemed to bend and slow down around him. It almost felt like he was bleeding out, except it wasn't energon he was bleeding but knowledge. If he was in pain, he could not tell, the vacuum-like effect by releasing the power of the Primes seemed to make him numb to any and all sensations.

Memories passed by him, each one more fleeting than the last, though some images lingered more than others. However, each and every one of them eventually faded just the same, leaving him empty and confused. He could see Cybertron, his youngling years with his mentor, Alpha Trion, Megatronus, the War, the day he became a Prime…on and on it went, going faster than he could comprehend as he saw flashes of his team and friends, the kids, and…Aria.

It was almost amazing how many memories he had accumulated over the eons of his life, and how many more he had gained while on Earth, sharing numerous—but no less enjoyable—occasions with a certain golden-haired femme. It made his spark ache, but he was glad he got to see her in his final moments.

On and on they went…until at last one particular memory caught his attention.

—Flashback—

It was a little while after Ironhide had joined the team. Aria and himself were the only ones on base at the time as the rest of Team Prime were either out scouting for energon, enjoying quality time with their charges, or taking a much-needed stasis-nap in Ratchet's case. As a result, base was rather quiet, but it didn't bother either of them. They both rather enjoyed it, content with the rare silence as opposed to the usual bluster and chaos that was usually seen on base.

He had been working through some reports on the monitor, and Aria was quietly going through her own work that she had brought with her to base, multiple unknown documents of which were splayed out on the table in front of her. Content with the silence as they worked on their respective tasks, Optimus did not move from his spot for a couple hours until the need to stretch his stiff joints became too great. Blinking his optics several times, he backed away from the console and stretched his servos high above his head, stiff joints and limbs groaning slightly in relief. Chancing a glance to his right, he found his charge doing the same thing, arms high above her head as she stood until she was balanced on the tips of her toes as several solid cracking noise came from her body. The disturbing sounds probably would have concerned him except for the soft groans of relief she made each time there was another pop.

Continuing to keep his optics on her, he smiled in amusement when, as soon as she was done stretching, the femme collapsed back on the couch limply with a sigh, eyes closed. He shook his helm; somehow she managed to make the overdramatic action still look oddly graceful. Glancing at the table she was using, he found his optic ridges furrowing when he saw what looked like several copies of the same document spread out with a magnifying glass and green sticky-note pad resting on top of one of the three stacks she had made.

"What are those?" he asked, coming closer, unable to contain his overabundance of natural curiosity. He had never been full able to get rid of the urge, even when he was made a Prime, though it had tempered it if only a little.

Those grey optics snapped open to look at him as the young woman sat up. Following his gaze, she her eyes lit up and danced minutely when she found he had been referring to the protective sheet covered paper documents.

"Oh, these are bank bonds," she explained, picking up one of them from the large right stack. "A friend of mine up in New York asked me to authenticate them for a case."

"A case?" he parroted questioningly. What did she mean by that? It sounded like something an Enforcer would say.

She nodded picking up the magnifying glass. "Yeah, I have a friend who works for the FBI Art Crimes division up in New York. I have a little expertise in the area, so I mainly just consult for them when they need my help authenticating certain pieces of art. Usually, it's only when I'm up there, but sometimes they send me stuff like this to look over."

He listened closely to her, hanging onto every word and soaking up the information as best he could. Ever since they had met, Aria had refrained from talking about her past until he had eventually given up and stopped asking altogether. From what he knew of her, Aria was a femme of few words. She had these barriers set up about her as if to protect herself from something. But trying to get past them…he found that the task was akin to chipping away at a glacier with a small twig.

Now suddenly, here she was, willingly giving him some insight into the girl behind the stoic mask and revealing a bit of her past without him even having to ask, and he found that he did not mind listening, soaking up her words as easily as a sponge. He especially loved how her eyes seemed to change with her emotions as she spoke, becoming dark and stormy when she was troubled or deep in thought, to absolutely thunderous when angry, to shining pools of quicksilver whenever she graced him with those rare but genuine smiles. He had never known that there were so many different shades of grey and sliver that existed before he met her.

Internally shaking himself out of his thoughts, he said, "I see. And how do you know if these documents are real or not?"

She smiled wider like he had just asked the million-credit question. "Well take this one for example," she said, gesturing at the one in her left hand. She then held the magnification device over the protected paper, right over the somewhere near the left corner. "This one is a fake because if you look right here you can see the small outline of the initials C.H."

Looking at the spot she was gesturing to, he found that she was indeed right that there was a small and barely noticeable outline of the initials among the embroidery of the page. It amazed him that she was able to pick up such a small detail.

"Still, I wouldn't blame the guy for putting his initials on it either considering how well done this is," she continued with a shrug, placing in the middle stack. "I mean I would probably sign my name to a masterpiece like this too if I managed to forge a document like this so spectacularly."

"'Forge'?" he repeated, optics widening slightly. "You mean to say that this—"

"—Was hand done?" she finished, grey eyes glittering before dipping her golden head in a nod. "Yep."

"Fascinating," he breathed, further intrigued as the document looked like it had merely been printed not hand-painted. "What other items do they have you examine?"

"Everything from sculptures, to paintings by Picasso, and so on." She paused for a moment, tilting her head slightly like she had just thought of something. Setting down the magnifying glass, she reached for a small box that he hadn't noticed was buried under the left stack of bonds. "Actually, here's another one." She opened the box and drew out a bracelet carved from some kind of blue stone and depicted a trident on it. "This bracelet was found in one of the straits of the Aegean Sea. It's carved from a stone called lapis lazuli which is commonly found in Middle Eastern areas like Egypt. See the scripture on it?" she tapped the markings that covered it. "That is a known alphabet called Linear B, and the words themselves are Greek. It's a script once used by the Mycenaean's who lived on islands in the Aegean Sea, and it actually predates even the current Greek alphabet, making it about 3500 years old."

Optimus' amazement grew at the plethora of knowledge his charge possessed. It was quite remarkable, and he wondered if she knew more.

"Do know what it says? That is, can you read what is inscribed on it?" he asked.

She shrugged, putting it back in the box carefully. "Eh, a little, but I mostly rely on the internet since it's sometimes just easier to plug it into a translator. Anyways, it reads, "Fishermen of Triton Village of the Allouros cape, pay heed if you value your life. Even the whirling waters fear the night. Sail when all is quiet in the calm twilight."" She met his eyes briefly, and he wondered if she was aware of the true but precious smile that played on her lips, growing wider as she talked animated about something she obviously loved doing. "It looks to be some kind of warning written by ancient fishermen, no doubt talking about some of the undines that can be found in the area that this was salvaged from."

Unknowingly, he began to smile too as the two of them talked for an hour straight about interesting historical facts, comparing cultures, and so on, happily chatting the evening away, his spark content.

—Flashback End—

Even then, as his memories abandoned him, he smiled, cherishing all those things he adored about his charge even as they faded into nothing. He was glad that he had managed to save an image of her to one of his deeper internal drives; the one where those pools of quicksilver danced merrily. Hopefully, it wouldn't be wiped with the power purge.

And in that moment, just before he forgot everything, he realized a profound yet amazingly simple and earthshattering truth: he was in love with her. He, Optimus Prime, was in love with Aria Slade-Cage, a human. All this time…all those spark pains and odd feelings he had around her…it made so much sense.

With one last effort, he sent up a final prayer.

 _Please, Primus, no matter what happens to me, watch over her. I do not think I could bear it if I lost the one who I think holds my spark_.

And then Optimus Prime knew no more.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

When the quaking had started, I hadn't realized what was going on until Ratchet had saved me from falling off the railings. The yells of "Earthquake!" and "Take cover!" hadn't even phased me, falling on deaf ears. I was just so shocked and—dare I say it—heartbroken. A large part of me wanted to deny Ratchet's revelation, refusing point blank to accept that this as a fact. But an even smaller part of me knew it was true as an imaginary demon taunted my foolish placement of trust.

"…Aria…Aria!"

I looked up to find Ratchet staring down at me worriedly.

"Aria are you alright?"

My mouth felt dry, tongue stiff and uncomfortably hot. My lips were peeling uncomfortably, crying out for chapstick as I tried to swallow. But this uncomfortable lump in my esophagus stopped all that. It was like I had come down with strep throat all over again, barely able to swallow and wishing there was some way to swallow a continuous cool breeze down my throat or glue a cube of frozen spearmint-water to the area of discomfort.

Nevertheless, I couldn't speak, much less know the correct words to respond with. I may have been physically fine, but the emotional pain was just as incapacitating right now.

Eventually, I just settled for shaking my head once, letting him see the somber look in my eyes as my emotions tried to get the better of me. Thankfully, the medic seemed to understand and opted to place me on his shoulder plates where I barely moved and inch after that. In fact, I'm not even sure if I was conscious as my whole world was shrouded in a daze, sounds and words murky in my ears at best; I knew what the lack of shaking meant.

The others did too, but while they cheered, I reverted into a state much like that Bella character had from Twilight, never noticing the concerned glance a certain scarlet-orange and white mech regarded me with.

* * *

—Orion Pax's POV—

Disoriented, Orion Pax rolled over and opened his bleary optics, limbs aching like his friend, Jazz, had just put him through another mock sparring session.

 _What— where am I?_ he wondered, gazing at unfamiliar surroundings. This didn't look like Cybertron. Then he focused on his good friend, Megatronus, who was walking over to him and had his blade drawn. But he seemed different, like he had gotten several upgrades, and his once sparkling blue optics were now an unnerving red.

Shaking his helm slightly in an effort to clear his foggy processor, he asked innocently, "Where are we, Megatronus?"

Not noticing the affect his words had upon his friend, he allowed the other mech to pull him to his pedes (after he had retracted his blade).

"Don't you remember, old friend?" Megatronus asked as warmly as ever.

However, the unknowing Prime merely shook his helm, retracting the facemask he realized that he had been wearing, though he hadn't realized at first. Orion was more than a little frustrated at his inability to recall the events in which he had arrived here…wherever 'here' was.

Suddenly, there was a large crashing sound as something gave way to tremendous force.

"Optimus! Are you okay?" a deep voice called from the cloud of dust. It turned out to be a large, green mech with a mace, and he was followed by three others: a blue femme, a yellow mech, and a much larger and more intimidating black mech whose cannons were a terror factor all on their own.

"Why did he call me that?" he enquired curiously to his friend, noticing how the mech who had spoken had looked straight at him.

"What did you do to him?" the femme suddenly growled dangerously, glaring at Megatronus' large frame.

Ever the curious spark (as his mentor, Alpha Trion, had told him on more than one occasion), Orion persisted in asking questions, wondering who these newcomers were. "Who are they?"

It took a second for Megatronus to respond, and he only did so when a swirling green circle of light suddenly flared to life. Was that a ground bridge?

"Our mortal enemies!" the grey mech declared, turning to him and pointing to the churning vortex. "We're outnumbered. Go! I'll cover you!"

Knowing his friend probably knew better, Orion obeyed, only stopping once to glance one last time at those odd bots. The yellow one in particular, who had to be just barely out of his youngling frame, looked so spark-breakingly sad as he beeped and whirred. Yet Orion shook these errant thoughts off with a shake of his helm, turning and leaving the scene without another glance, ignoring the cries of those other bot's for him to come back, shouting a name as they did. Who was Optimus Prime?

* * *

—Ratchet's POV—

As glad as he was to see the others walk through that ground bridge all in one piece, he could see in their optics that despite their victory against Unicron, there was still bad news to be shared. He was both glad that Aria had disappeared a short while after the final quake and worried, aware of how much the femme must be grieving right now. At least she wasn't around to hear about what happened to Optimus; but hopefully she wouldn't do anything stupid in the meantime.

Letting the humans and the more long-standing members of Team Prime reunite, he turned to his oldest friend for explanation, knowing that if he didn't ask now, Ironhide would likely lock himself in the training room for several hours if his dark expression was anything to go by.

"And Optimus?" he dared to voice, struggling to vocalize the words. "Is he…?"

The dark expression on Ironhide's faceplates said it all. "Dead? Nah," he waved off before looking directly into the CMO's optics with a grim expression and said, "But Ratchet, he looked right at us without recognizing us. Didn't even know his own name!"

The others were listening too; he could see, but that wasn't what caught his attention.

Aria was watching them from afar, standing at the entrance to the hall where their berth-rooms were, and deadly silent. Pale as the white of his paintjob, she did it all with this dead, hopeless look in her grey optics. However, aside from Ironhide, who appeared to be seriously taken aback by the femme's appearance, they were the only two that noticed her.

Knowing he shouldn't draw any attention to her, Ratchet opted to give his theory on what had happened, vowing later to find the emotionally fragile femme and keep an optic on her at the very least.

"When Optimus surrendered the Matrix of Leadership, he lost more than the collective wisdom of the Primes. He lost his own memories," he said, unaware of the pair of tears that fell at the words, the owners heart seeming to shatter in her chest.

* * *

* _sniffles_ * That's another chapter for you lovely folks. Hope you enjoyed it and the fact that the ship has just weighed anchor.

Now I was going to try to get this chapter and the Orion Pax episodes out before my birthday, but considering it's the 14th and tomorrow's the 15th…yeah, sorry that's not gonna happen. But I am going to try to get those and possibly more done before the end of August. Not promises except one to say that I will try.

I already have much of chapter 33 planned out, and considering my friends are calling me "a sadist of an author", I'd say my ideas for the soon-to-be greatly changed episode are pretty decent. Anyways, I won't say anymore here except to humbly request that you obey the **5-Review Policy** , check out and vote on my polls as they will soon be changing weekly, and favorite and follow me and my story at your leisure. Please and thank you!


	31. Falling to Pieces

Sorry about the long wait guys. Life suddenly had just gotten really busy for me.

Anyways, a special thanks goes to **Steelcode** , **bajy** , **Sfrizz5959** , **Akrisakara** , **avatarange** , **X Valkyrie Prime X** , **Cinematronix** , **b. marr** , **Guest (1)** , **Guest (2)** , **Guest (3)** , **BarrelRacer1205** , **TheSquoxQueen** , **Wildwolf** , **Guest (4)** , **Estela Prime** , **Xenozip** and my followers and those who favorited me and this story.

Also, congrats to **Wildwolf** for being my 200th reviewer! *wolf whistles and applauds*

To **Cinematronix** : Thank you and yes I am aware that some people like yourself are not too fond of Aria's off topic 'escapades' as you put it. However, I needed a way to build on Aria's character as being a heroic-villain, and using boring old Jasper Nevada seemed like an overused, redundant idea. Plus, she's not really the type to sit still, but I bet you figured that. Anyways, for your info, I consider myself to be technically straight, though that maybe a little unclear since I am writing about a female falling in love with a being that technically has no gender, just a frame type that is considered male or mech. Still, 'Optaria'? Huh, nice shipping name. I may have to use that.

To **bajy** : Thank you! And yes, I promise Aria will realize soon. Remember though, she's technically never experienced any form of romantic love (as far as you know), only sibling and familia love for her sister, Raoul, and her mentors. As for the human to cybertronian question, all I will say to that is 'in a manner of speaking'. I don't want to reveal too much. Will it be right away? No, definitely not. You will just have to wait and see.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime or any other recognizable works like Naruto or songs like Breakeven by The Script and so on. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 31: Falling to Pieces**

—Orion Pax's POV—

Staring up at the ceiling from his berth, Orion Pax pondered a great many things. A few short mega-cycles (hours) ago, his friend Megatronus, or rather Megatron now, had explained everything (or at least given him a short summary of it all) earlier that cycle, and he was still admittedly trying to wrap his processor around it. He had been in stasis for that long?

His planet was dead. His home was gone. His friends…he didn't even know what happened to them. Everything was just _gone_ , and it was all lost in a perpetual conflict that had started some time after he had been put in stasis and was still ongoing but on another planet?

It was all too much. Poor Orion just felt so lost as he browsed through his memories of his home on Cybertron, remembering its glory and knowing that it could never be like that again. He didn't even remember when he had been put into deep stasis like Megatro…like _Megatron_ had told him, or why.

Venting a little, he ran a self-systems diagnostic check on his internal drives, wondering if something was wrong with him. Maybe he could ask if Megatron's medic—Knockout, he remembered—would give him checkup tomorrow.

However, when the report came back, he was surprised to find that one of his deeper, internal drives actually contained something. He rarely used those since he had never really found a use for the semi-permanent data storage drives. The most he did was save the images of his friends there. But that wasn't the shocking part about this. No, it was that it was new, as in before he woke from stasis.

Curiosity taking hold, Orion hesitated only a little before opening the file. But what he found on there just served to confuse him further. It was another image. However, it was not a cybertronian. But rather…an organic? At least, he assumed that it was an organic, as that was only what the alien figure in the image could be; it looked too soft and fleshy to be anything else. It looked be similar in basic body structure to a cybertronian, and if he had to guess—Orion magnified the image a little to get a closer look at it—was presumably a femme of some sort given that it's frame structure was similar to a femme's. Anyways, it had lengthy, gold-colored fur that hung from its helm and seemed to be woven into one long tail down it's spinal struts. Skin—at least he thought that was the word—a mixture of golden-tan and pink, its optics did not glow like a cybertronian's did, though he swore that the silver-grey pools gleamed like polished metal or mercury. Covered in odd red and blue armor that didn't seem all that durable, it– _she_ was fascinating as her pink lipplates curved upwards in what Orion assumed was a smile. She had all these odd, pale marks that stood out on her pale-tan skin too, including her faceplates, and he pondered if they were markings or something else.

Orion wondered where the image came from as he took in the barren, red rock landscape in the background of the picture. He didn't recognize the location or the organic. As far as he knew, this was as far away from Cybertron he had ever been. So where did this image come from?

Still, he felt like this was important, that he somehow knew who this was.

Withdrawing from the puzzling image, Orion sat up as his gaze shifted to his newly given Decepticon insignia, wondering.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

 _Two weeks, three days, twelve hours, thirty-seven minutes, and twenty-two seconds_.

That was the exact amount of time (and counting) that Optimus Prime had been missing. It seemed like a tedious task to keep track of, but I still kept counting, unable to do much else. I barely managed to function like a normal human being, let alone go to school and work. Honestly though, I didn't really care about my welfare or any of those other things. My only concern was the welfare of Optimus. Not my own, or anyone else's.

 _Two weeks, three days, twelve hours, forty-two minutes, and thirteen seconds._

In hindsight, we accomplished what was required. With Unicron's awakening, extreme measures needed to be taken. Enemies became allies, and allies became confidants. And, with the Matrix of Leadership, Earth was saved. Though at immeasurable personal cost. When Optimus surrendered the Matrix, he'd lost more than the collective wisdom of the Primes. _**He lost himself**_.

 _Two weeks, three days, thirteen hours, one minute, and twenty-nine seconds_.

I worried constantly how my lost guardian was faring. Hell, I even threw in a couple prayers here and there in the hopes that Optimus was fine, though I don't know if it made much of a difference. But I was at my wit's end, ready to try just about anything.

I was tired of playing the waiting game.

I wanted Optimus back.

 _Two weeks, three days, thirteen hours, seven minutes, twenty-one seconds._

Apparently, in that same span of time, I changed a lot too. Everything was done in a quick and concise manner, but all my actions were nothing short of robotic and practiced. Teachers would hand me an assignment to do in class, and a couple minutes later, it would be on their desk, completed, in the timeliest of manners while they gaped at my retreating form. Then, I would sit there in my desk, staring out the window in a subdued fashion, as my thoughts immediately strayed to a certain red and royal blue 'bot.

 _Two weeks, three days, thirteen hours, twenty-nine minutes, forty-eight seconds._

And I was quiet, too. In fact, too quiet, even for me. I didn't start fights at school anymore or even bother with the usual trash talk when bullies tried to goad me into swinging a fist. The most that happened was that I mercilessly decked a couple boys who decided to get in my way one day when my temper had been on a shot fuse. All without ever uttering a single word.

Everyone had been avoiding me since.

Even my sister Isabella, when we talked on the phone, took notice of my behavior.

—Flashback—

-{ **Big sister, are you alright?** }- Izzy asked worriedly after I spaced out for the umpteenth time.

Unseen to her, I rubbed my face tiredly, feeling about twenty years older than I was. "I—sorry, Izzy, I'm just under a lot of stress right now. Things aren't looking so great over here," I said with a sigh, doing my best to sugarcoat it as much as possible.

-{ **Is this about Orion?** }- she prodded, hitting the source of my problems it right on the mark.

Damn that kid was perceptive. And smart too.

"I—yeah," I admitted. I wouldn't straight up lie to my little sister if I could help it, though I wouldn't tell her exactly what was going on either. She'd probably start crying. "Something happened, and now he's…not feeling the greatest at the moment. They won't let me see him, and I'm worried."

There was silence on the other end for a moment, and I started to worry that I had made her cry. Then she said, -{ **I'm sure he's fine, 'ria. Didn't you say before he was pretty strong?** }-

The corners of my lips twitched, remembering one of our past conversations where I had said that. "Yeah, I just worry though."

-{ **I know, and I think that's just because that's the kind of person you are, Aria.** }- she said simply like it was the most obvious thing in the world. All the same, I could hear a smile in her voice. -{ **Trust me, I know that any person you consider a friend has got to be as tough as steel to be able to put up with you.** }-

"I don't know whether to be insulted or flattered by that comment," I muttered, causing the girl to giggle a bit before steamrollering on.

-{ **Sis, from what you told me, do you think Orion would want you to sit and mope or smile and be happy?** }-

She had a point. Damn that kid was smart. Oh wait, I already said that.

-{ **Besides, don't you have a job to do?** }-

"Huh?" was my oh-so intelligent answer.

-{ **Well, if he's out of commission for a while, isn't it your job to look after everyone else? I mean you are his friend, so he trusts you—** }-

Taken aback, I pulled the device away as she rambled, looking at the phone incredulously and wondering if I had misheard. Eventually though, I managed to form a response with no small degree of curiosity (or caution) in my voice. "What are you trying to say kiddo?" I asked.

If it wasn't for the distance right now, I swear I could just see the mini-me tugging on her bangs lightly as she huffed a little in either frustration or exasperation. -{ **Well if you're Orion's friend, doesn't that make you the next best choice to look after everyone?** }- she said in a "well duh" tone of voice.

A derisive snort escaped me as I said, "Izzy, I'm far from anyone's best choice as leader."

-{ **But I've seen you! You're awesome! You—** }-

"Isabelle," I cut in with a patient, even tone, trying to not sound angry. "The rest of the group doesn't know me well enough to trust me."

-{ **But I trust you.** }-

She spoke those words like they were a fact of life, voice small and quiet, but no less certain. Gods she was so innocent, so pure; it was mystifying.

I must have phased out or something because before I knew it, Izzy was saying she had to go, signing off in her usual happy, bubbly manner. And all I could think as the call cut was how much I had heard that single word bandied about in the past couple days: trust.

—Flashback End—

That conversation had been a couple days ago. But it still made me wonder as I now sat at base, with Ratchet working nearby, monitoring the progress of the others as they searched various sectors for signs of Decepticon activity.

Ever since Ratchet's little revelation about Optimus' true plan, I had been practically living at base, both for that and for other reasons. If both Ratchet and Ironhide hadn't banned me from base during my school and work hours, I no doubt would have skipped both altogether to be on base or out with the others searching again. Driven and determined to find my guardian, the matters of everyday life just seemed so inconsequential in the face of my search. I just knew that both my heart and mind demanded that I find him so that we could bring him back.

—Flashback—

"When Optimus surrendered the Matrix, he lost more than the collective wisdom of the Primes. He lost himself," the medic realized sadly.

"That doesn't follow," Arcee immediately refuted. "Optimus knew Megatron."

Bulkhead nodded. "They were like BFFs!"

:{ _Yeah, he called him Megatronus!_ }: the scout chimed in. :{ _And he asked Megatron why we called him Optimus._ }:

Ratchet and Ironhide both shared a look, several unspoken things passing between them. Their expressions seemed to read, "It's time." Did I mention that I really do not like when they do that?

Of course, the medic was the one to explain, since Ironhide had less of a medical background. "If Optimus did not know his own name, perhaps it is because the title of Prime hasn't yet been granted to him," he hedged, seeming not exactly sure himself.

I remained silent while the others looked at Ratchet funny, some voicing their confusion.

"Huh?"

"What?"

"Say again?"

The scarlet and white mech sighed a little, looking worn. "With the power of the Matrix no longer within him, it would stand to reason that Optimus has reverted to his pre-Prime state: the historical archivist, Orion Pax."

Eyes widening, I felt as though I could have smacked myself. It was so obvious! Why hadn't I thought of that idea myself?

"You mean, in his mind," June persisted. She seemed to be grasping the idea since she did work as a nurse.

Fowler, however, took it a completely opposite direction.

"Are you telling me Prime thinks he is some kind of librarian? AND a Decepticon?!" Fowler exclaimed in a disbelieving tone.

I didn't even bother to justify his ludicrous assumption with so much as a nondescript grumble or exasperated roll of the eyes. My mind was too busy brooding, sorting through a haze of carefully calculated possibilities.

"Being a 'con is a choice, Suit," Ironhide butted in, glaring at the man. He had readily taken to my/Mozzie's nickname for Agent Fowler, mostly using it when the man grated on his nerves…which was a lot. "One I doubt Optimus would make at any point in his life. With or without his memories."

"So, if he's riding with the 'Cons," Bulkhead began.

"It's because Megatron is working some kind of voodoo," Arcee finished. Those two seemed to do that a lot.

The medic snorted a little, a very human action. "Orion Pax may not currently be an Autobot up here," he said, pointing to his helm, "but I must believe, he will never stop being one in here." His digits moved to rest over his chassis, directly where his spark would be. "We _must_ locate him to know for certain."

"Hold up," Fowler said, putting his hands up in a 'hold the sour cream and extra cheese enchiladas' gesture. "I have a chip lodged in my behind that let's Uncle Sam know when I stop for donuts. Are you telling me you can't just track Prime?"

Despite the possibly humorous yet disgusting piece of info, the mood in the room darkened significantly, especially when Ratchet admitted that Optimus' signal had not reappeared since he embarked for Earth's core to face Unicron. He even pulled up a screen that contained the team's vital stats; but Optimus' was missing, his profile merely a blank red space.

"But we must get to work finding him. If we have any hope of initiating his contingency plan," Ratchet then continued more firmly, trying to act strong for everyone else.

"Contingency plan?" Arcee parroted questioningly.

"What _contingency_?" Bulkhead pushed.

I immediately perked up, hope sparking anew. I almost thought that I had misheard him since I was still recovering from my arm 'sprouting a leak' after Optimus was declared MIA, but I prayed that I had indeed heard him right.

"Is that even a word?" asked the ever-stupid Miko, though everyone ignored her.

Then it dawned on my. "The Keycard!" I gasped, holding the blue and silver device up, speaking for the first time in a while.

"So, what's it do?" Jack questioned.

"It grants access to Vector Sigma, the repository of the wisdom of the Primes," Ratchet said sagely, gazing at the device in too, as that little spark flare brighter.

"Is that some sort of supercomputer?" Raf nosed, curious like we all were.

"So, we can just download Optimus's memories back into him? Great! Which one is the big V? Over here? Somewhere in back?" Jack asked excitedly, smiling and looking around at all the technical devices with hope.

But Ratchet just shook his helm, and I got a sneaking suspicion that I would not like what he said next. It turned out that I was right.

"Vector Sigma is more than a "supercomputer", Jack," he said. "It is an ancient source of mystical power. _On Cybertron_."

I wanted to cry…or bash my head in. Either one would have worked at the moment as we were back at square one all over again.

In any case, June immediately put her foot down upon hearing that. "Cybertron?! Aria Slade-Cage you will NOT be travelling to another planet!"

Eyes flashing, I whirled on her, ready to spit out several angry words. She would not stop me from taking this chance to save my guardian, and I was ready to tell her as much but in much more colorful words. Luckily for her though, Miko, as per her usual idiotic ways, piped up. "I'm in!"

But of course, lady kill-joy was already ready on it. "You're not going either, Miko," she said with a glare before turning on the Autobots with disapproval. "Not while one of YOU can."

Either Fowler was being completely serious or he was just trying to gain June's favor because he said, "June's right. Why send a girl to do a bot's job?"

I bristled even more, eyes and glare darkening to almost epic proportions. As cliché as it sounds, if looks really could kill, I am willing to bet a decent amount of pocket change that there would only be a small piles of ash where Fowler and June both stood.

Once again though, someone came to the rescue to save these hopeless fools. This time it was Ratchet. "Because only a Prime can access Vector Sigma," he said before his, along with everyone else's gaze turned to me as he continued by saying, "Or one chosen by a Prime. Optimus gave the key-card to Aria. It is now imprinted with her unique biosignature."

I blinked a couple times in shock, anger momentarily subdued. _So does that mean…?_

"So, you mean Aria's like some kind of honorary Prime?" Miko asked, echoing my thoughts.

"Let's just say Aria is the only one who can return Optimus to the Autobot we knew," the CMO said delicately.

June, however, seemed unable to let her case go. "But why would Optimus willfully endanger a human? A child?"

My fists clenched as something inside of me just snapped like a latch on a gate. _That does it!_

"I am not a child, June! I have no idea where you got that idea, but let me tell you this: get that idea out of your head now before I make you. It is insulting to myself as well as everyone else if you insist on referring to any of us as such." Forcibly taking a slight breath to calm myself, I continued, not allowing June to speak until I was done. "Now admittedly, I am as clueless as the rest of you as to why Optimus chose me, but I refuse to let my guardian down. I promised him that I would look after this key as well as Team Prime, and I do not make any promises lightly. _Te, kto otkazyvayetsya ot pravil, yavlyayutsya musorom, no te, kto pokidayut svoikh tovarishchey ili sem'yu, khuzhe, chem musor_ ," I said, quoting in my old mentor's favorite Russian saying at the end. (Those who abandon the rules are trash, but those who abandon their comrades or family are worse than trash.)

There was silence after that, and I realized I had just opened a whole new can of worms upon telling them that Optimus wanted me to look after Team Prime.

Thankfully, the awkward silence was disrupted by Ironhide, who eventually said, "For all we know, maybe Optimus believes there's more to Aria than meets the eye." He said it like he knew more than he was letting on, then shook his helm. I, however, was still surprised by the genuine emotion in his quiet tone.

"All of which is moot," Ratchet pressed. "The key-card is useless to us without the means of reaching Cybertron, which we at present do not possess."

I sighed. Like I said, back to square one.

"Dude. What about _that_?" Miko said, pointing to the ground-bridge though I really wasn't paying attention.

"Miko, the ground bridge barely got them into Earth orbit, remember?" someone—Rafael, I think—reminded her.

"Yeah, but Ratchet built it. Can't he just turbo-charge the thing?" she argued.

Meanwhile, my resolve firmed and hardened like lava cooling.

 _Whatever it takes, I will get you back Optimus_.

—Flashback End—

Sighing quietly, I rested a hand on my newest choker, relaxing a little when I felt the keycard still safely secured there, set into the black lace like pendant. Ever since the revelation, I had sworn to myself that I would keep the key to Vector Sigma safe no matter what. So, me, being the insane out-of-box thinker that I was, had designed a new way to safeguard the device and keep it close at hand by disguising it as a piece of jewelry.

Considering that it was smaller than my pinkie, it wasn't that hard to make it into a choker pendant either. After getting my measurements, a couple flops with the sewing machine, and shopping a couple metallic pieces in my shop, I now had it perfectly set into a metal, trap-like setting which dangled from a black, Victorian-style, strip of lace so that it rested perfectly on my collarbone among curved bits of thin, black chains to up the look. Only I knew that the little fake diamond above the key's frame was actually the release button for it.

Altogether, it was a necklace that was specifically designed to house the key to Vector Sigma.

It was pretty ingenious, even to me, and only Jack, Raf, Miko, and myself knew what it really was while the rest of the ignorant world saw a necklace, a fashion statement. I might have even gotten compliments on it too…had I not had the reputation for scaring people witless. In any case, again, it was my way of making sure that it stayed close and within reach as I rarely, if ever, took it off. For me, parting with it for even a minute would cause me to start having separation anxiety.

Still, I hoped that I wouldn't have to wear it for much longer.

 _Come home soon my Sangroyal._

* * *

—Nightfall, Dream, Orion Pax's POV—

 _There was a loud explosion of furious words in an odd language accompanied by a slam of someone frustratedly banging their fist on the desk._

"Pour l'amour de Dieu! Sacre bleu! _" (For the love of God! Damn blue!)_

" _What is that?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him after hearing the umpteenth foreign utterance slip from the femme's lipplates. She turned to him, so he clarified. "That language I hear you speak in on occasion?"_

 _The organic femme's shoulders shook a little as she chuckled softly, a slightly rough but oddly musical sound. "Always so curious," she said in a teasing tone, sending a slightly crooked smirk his way. He couldn't read any emotion in those silver-grey orbs though, just things she wanted him to see. She still had that nasty habit of hiding her emotions away on occasion, even when it was just the two of them. In any case, she stood up from hear seat, stretching and causing small popping noises to come from her back. Then reaching up, she pulled her hair out of its confinement, and he watched as the thin strands of gold tumbled down her back. It length was quite surprising since it reached all the way down her spinal struts to her tailbone. The human's concept of hair may have been a bit of a foreign idea to most 'bot's. However, he just thought it added to her exotic charm._

 _Anyways, running her digits through her hair, the small (at least compared to him) femme eventually answered him, walking over to the railings to get closer. "Well to answer your question, that was Cajun French, which, by the way, is different than Parisian French. It's not really common here in Nevada, but you'll find a lot of Cajun-Creole speakers down in the swampier parts of Louisiana," she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck in an absentminded manner._

 _He drank in the information. "So does that in turn signify that you are from Louisiana yourself since you possess the same vocal articulation?" he asked astutely, drawing conclusions from pervious info he had been given._

 _The golden-haired femme chuckled again, eyes dancing. "Ever the smart 'bot I see."_

Orion abruptly awoke from recharge.

 _What an odd feedback loop_ , he reflected. _It almost felt real…and that organic femme was in it too. It was like I knew her._

Orion wondered at that. Ever since he awoke from stasis, nothing seemed to make sense, or it barely did. First there was a picture appearing in his drives that he never knew about until recently. Then these odd dreams often involving the organic from the image.

Orion Pax had no idea what was going on, but he resolved to find out.

* * *

—Couple Days Later, Bathroom of Aria's Mechanics Shop, Aria's POV—

" _I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing_ "

There was blood everywhere once again; my skin the color of chalk.

" _Just prayin' to a god that I don't believe in_ "

I don't know—okay that's a bald-faced lie. I do know what set it off this time.

"' _Cause I got time while she got freedom_

' _Cause when a heart breaks no it don't break even_ "

I'm just ashamed to admit that I lost control.

" _Her best days will be some of my worst_ "

It started out when I had been leaving school at my usual early time when the bane of my entire high school experience approached me.

" _She finally met a man that's gonna put her first_ "

Fruitlessly, I deployed my usual scare tactics that usually worked on most of the small fry in this school, shooting a piss-worthy glare in his direction and acting like he was not worth my time. However, he didn't take the hint.

" _While I'm wide awake she's no trouble sleeping_ "

My fist ached with the dire desire to punch him, and my throat burned with a want to bellow in frustration like an enraged bull, knowing all too well what this stupid, can't-take-a-hint, freshman, wanted.

"' _Cause when a heart breaks no it don't break even, even, no!_

" _What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you?_ "

Meet Emmanuel, the stupid freshman that had been relentlessly trying to flirt with me ever since the beginning of the school year when I oh-so-kindly directed him to one of his classes…and could not take a hint that I wasn't interested.

" _And what am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're OK?_ "

It was safe to say that I regretted that action ever since.

" _I'm falling to pieces, yeah_

 _I'm falling to pieces_ "

Now he had been hounding me ever since. Like now for instance.

" _They say bad things happen for a reason_ "

I tried to reign in my extreme annoyance so that it wouldn't show as he made a direct path to me. Not that it would have mattered anyways. He was too dense to notice. Actually, now that I thought of it, he was a lot like Gaston from _Beauty and the Beast_ : overwhelming sense of self-important, overconfident, cocky, persistent, and annoyingly stubborn. Emmanuel didn't get that me dating him was never going to happen, especially since I was a senior and he was a freshman. Plus, as a technical adult, I couldn't legally date him either according to the law until he was of age. And again, dating is not on my priories list.

" _But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding_ "

Still, I'll give him points for creativity. I mean, his first opening pick-up line to me was: "Your eyes are so unique, like dragon eyes." Pfft. Someone give this guy proper lessons in flirting and pick-up lines. Points for creativity though.

"' _Cause she's moved on while I'm still grieving_ "

Anyways, I guess ever since his last victim had gotten smart and surrounded herself with friends, he had set his sights on a new flirting target: me. Sadly, I am a loner and do not have many friends to rescue me (except maybe Jack on occasion), so I was forced to endure his endless flirting and constant violations of my personal space until an excuse to escape presented itself. Reporting him for sexual harassment more than tempting at this point in time since outright hitting him wasn't exactly justified, but I refrained, if only to keep him from choosing a new girl to hit on.

That proved to be a poor choice now.

" _And when a heart breaks no it don't breakeven even, no_ "

In any case, Emmanuel once again tried to flirt with me, saying that I should be with someone mature like him. (Blegh! I would have welcomed a bullet to the head right about then). Then the fool had to go and say some rather nasty things about my friends, which I don't care to repeat at this moment. Nevertheless, with my temper on such a short fuse though, that remark was all I needed to twist his arm painfully behind his back until he cried, kick his legs out from under him, and kick him in the solar plexus with no remorse. Remember, I often wear steel toed boots, so it was probably _very_ uncomfortable.

" _What am I gonna to do when the best part of me was always you?_ "

At that moment, I was just so angry. His words had felt like an attack on my Optimus, even though I knew Emmanuel knew nothing of him. But it was all I could think of.

" _And what am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're OK?_ "

Still, the sudden rush of extreme emotion was more than enough to trigger another one of my "blood baths", and I was hard pressed to get home and into the bathroom before I bled out.

" _I'm falling to pieces, yeah_

 _I'm falling to pieces, yeah_

 _I'm falling to pieces_ "

Now here I was, sitting in my bathroom, singing the song 'Breakeven' by The Script.

" _(One still in love while the other ones leaving)_

 _I'm falling to pieces_

 _('Cause when a heart breaks no it don't breakeven)_ "

I didn't attempt to stop the bleeding though.

" _Oh you got his heart and my heart and none of the pain_

 _You took your suitcase, I took the blame_

 _Now I'm try'na make sense of what little remains ooh_

' _Cause you left me with no love and no love to my name_ "

Something had stopped me before I could.

" _I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing_

 _Just prayed to a god that I don't believe in_

' _Cause I got time while she got freedom_

' _Cause when a heart breaks no it don't break_

 _No it don't break_

 _No it don't breakeven no!_ "

Life had just been getting worse and worse for me. So much sadness. So much grief. So much guilt. I was getting in too deep.

" _What am I gonna do when the best part of me was always you?_

 _And what am I suppose to say when I'm all choked up and you're OK?_

 _(Oh glad your okay now)_

 _I'm falling to pieces yeah_

 _I'm falling to pieces yeah_

 _I'm falling to pieces_ "

So maybe, _maybe_ it would be easier to just stop attempting to cut the flow for once.

" _(One still in love while the other ones leaving)_

 _I'm falling to pieces yeah_

 _('Cause when a heart breaks no it don't breakeven)_ "

Maybe it would be easier to just stop fighting altogether.

" _Oh it don't breakeven no!_

 _Oh it don't breakeven no!_

 _Oh it don't breakeven no!_ "

As the last note fell from my lips and faded, I smiled in a melancholy way. It would feel so good to just end it all and not have to worry—

"Aria…Aria…"

I stilled. Even in my dazed state, I recognized the familiar voice without fail, head snapping up at the sound of it. My sight was blurry, but not warped enough to know that I was indeed alone in my bathroom.

I was starting to think I imagined it when he spoke again. "Little one, you must stop this."

"O– Optimus?" I called weakly with slightly discolored lips. "W-where are you? I c-can't see you."

"Oh little one…" came the euphonious whisper, which sounded so sad. "I am right here."

And like magic, I caught sight of him, standing there before me with an understanding look in his optics; I was too out of it to register that he was as tall as me now. Actually, all logic seemed to be put on hold as I gazed up at him, astounded, yet happy. I even smiled, and I mean _actually_ _**smiled**_ , expression completely natural and full of watery emotion.

"You're here," I merely croaked. Unbeknownst to me, tears of joy began to trickle down my face.

Kneeling so that our faces were only a foot apart, he still managed to seem so big as those blue optics fell on my bleeding, bloody arm. There was no surprise or disgust or any type of emotion of his features that suggested that he was repulsed by my disfigurement. All I saw was caring, understanding, and something else I could not put a label on.

Lipplates quirked upwards in a smile, he placed his large, warm servo on my left cheek, sort of like he had done before he and the others had gone to the core. Anyhow, I leaned into the touch, too weak to do much else.

"Oh little one, how has it come to this? How could you do this to yourself?" he said softly with a slight tone of disappointment, opening the kit beside me and setting to work on my arm. Despite being much stronger, larger and made of metal, he was gentle, his touch light as the caress of a butterfly's wing.

Immediately, I was shamed, unable to look at him. "Optimus, I'm sorry. I- I was just so tired, and I just thought— I wanted— It's so hard to— Felt so lost and alone—"

"Shhh…" he soothed, interrupting my babble. "It's alright."

"But I wanted to give up, Optimus. I nearly did."

He vented, pausing in his efforts to clean up my arm to look me in the eyes, imploring me to continue. So I did, refusing to meet his optics as I stared at my lap.

"I'm just so lost. Everything seems to have gone to pit. You asked me to look after the other's and I just don't know what to do. I– I'm so terrified of messing up, and I– I– Gods! I just really need you Optimus. I'm not cut out for any of this."

It was like he was analyzing me, picking me apart, until he found what he was looking for. It made me feel uncomfortable and shy. Was this how others felt when I scrutinized them?

In any case, he seemed to find whatever he wanted as his mood shifted and the softer-than-downy-feather's smile was back. "Sweetling," he rumbled at last, in a slow, steady voice that made delicious shivers go down my spine, especially when I registered the endearment. "Tell me, when you draw a line in the sand and the tide washes it away, do you stop trying to draw in the sand?"

I shook my head, barely noticing as he filled the needle with the proper dosage.

"And when you were first learning to fight and were knocked down time and time again, did that ever stop you from getting back up again?"

I shook my head again, lips quirking. I didn't even feel as he slid the needle into my skin and pushed the plunger.

"And when you have a stressful day and all you want to do is throw a tantrum like a sparkling, and you go to bed declaring that you quit, that you are giving up. What happens when you wake up the next day?"

There was now a full-blown smile on my features. "I pick myself up again take another shot at living."

He nodded approvingly. "You see? It's okay to be scared little one. Just as it may be stormy now, the sun will shine again because it never rains forever. Success is not final, and failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts."

"Winston Churchill," I said, recognizing the quote as he began to clean up, wiping away the dried blood on my arm and gently wrapping it in a bandage. Then, abruptly, my eyes darkened, smile falling, and my mood soured as I thought of something else. "But what if I can't do it? What if I'm not strong enough to handle things on my own?"

Putting away the first aid kit, he then focused his full attention on me, placing a warm, metallic hand on my cheek. "I cannot promise to fix all your problems, but I can promise you would not have to face them all alone. I will always be with you no matter how far apart we are." Then he leaned in and placed a gentle, metallic kiss on my forehead that felt extremely tender and full of warmth. "Just promise me you will never let yourself fall to this state ever again."

The room was beginning to fade, as was my vision of him, but I managed to whisper those two words. "I promise," I said to the empty bathroom, eyes closing. Slipping into unconsciousness with a warm, fluttering feeling in my heart, I didn't notice how the key-card, which had been glowing a moment ago, had dimmed once again to its natural state.

* * *

—Ironhide's POV—

Now, Ironhide was not a mech who openly admitted his worries and fears if he had any at all. The time he took reinventing his cannons, practicing on the firing range, and fighting Decepticons were more than enough to distract him. However, there were times when even he couldn't ignore the warning signs.

Aria's current state was a good example of that.

Ever since Optimus had gone missing, she had been physically looking worse and worse.

And Ironhide? He was worried about her.

He may not be the femme's guardian. But bearing in mind that he had lived with her for a time, he did regard as himself close to her. Pit! He had helped her help a man through nefarious means and put another in jail. That type of dangerous stuff tended to bring people closer together.

That was part of why he and Ratchet had allowed her to practically live at base now; so that they could keep an optic or two on her.

So when he pulled up to her garage at 6:00 pm and didn't find her impatiently waiting for him outside, worry filled his tanks, and his processor immediately jumped to the worst conclusion.

Onlining his holoform, he quickly stepped out of his vehicle mode and went over to the smaller human door, solidifying the hologram just long enough to try the door. It was locked.

Fear rising, he immediately went for the backup key he knew she hid in a false brick nearby and unlocked it in three seconds flat. The only light in the dim shop came from the sunset behind him and the windows that were set into the ceiling. But it was enough light to see the small droplets of red that made a trail over towards the stairs to the second floor living quarters of the shop.

Footsteps thundering up the metal steps, he followed the trail, all the way to the bathroom, stopping just outside the door. Easing the door open slowly like he was afraid of what he would see, Ironhide's eyes scanned the room for the golden-haired femme, widening when they saw her extremely pale form leaning against the bathtub. Her eyes were closed, and she wasn't moving. Her shirt was gone, though he didn't see it anywhere; so only her black bra remained for which he was thankful as he knew some species considered revealing one's full nude protoform a very intimate act. Aside from that, she wore only ripped jeans, the collar for the keycard, and little else, so her blue-tinted toes stood out against the pale tile.

Not a good sign.

Rushing over, Ironhide touched the side of her neck, sighing in relief when he found that she was still breathing; she just seemed to be asleep. Still, he didn't like how pale or cold she was as he gently scooped her up in his arms. She did not wake or even stir; but he didn't know if that was a good or bad sign.

Odd metallic scent catching his nose as he stood, he frowned, eyes zeroing on the dark red stain on the thigh of her pants. It looked to be barely dried, but he could see no other signs of red on her or anywhere else in the spotless bathroom. Holographic eyes catching on her bandaged arm, he wondered what was behind the cloth. Was whatever that was behind it the source of the blood trail? He didn't try peeking though. He had seen how jealously the femme had guarded the secret, and it would be an invasion of her privacy to look. Only a Decepticon would do that; the weapons specialist was more honorable than that.

The only thing Ironhide noted otherwise as he carried Aria out of the bathroom was that the sink had been recently used, droplets of water still lingering in the basin.

Silently, he carried her all the way to bed, tucking her in as gently as possible among the covers.

Her face was slightly wet too, he belatedly noted, taking in the redness.

Had she been crying? He knew humans could produce salty water from their eyes when they felt an overwhelming amount of joy or sadness, but he didn't really think Aria could do that. The way she acted made the idea of her crying completely impossible in his processor.

It was as he was brushing a couple stray strands out of her face, that Ironhide heard a soft whisper escape her lips. It was so quiet he thought his holoform was malfunctioning or something.

"Optimus…"

The sound was so broken and lost; Ironhide's spark ached with sympathy for the femme as he closed the bedroom door behind him with a faint _click_.

 _Prime, you better come back soon because there's someone here waiting for you._

* * *

So, yeah…I honestly hadn't meant to cut this chapter off so soon and end it on such a sad note, but I guess that is just how it went. Though I did enjoy writing her little hallucination of OP.

Still, Aria should go to Cybertron the next chapter. And in the one after that…well like I said, I am "a sadist of an author" according to my friends. Hopefully, when I submit the next chapter after this, I will have the chapter after that one done so that I can publish it as soon as I reach five reviews.

Anyways, yes, like I mentioned before too, I did change the size of the keycard just to make into a piece of jewelry. Hey, so sue me. I'm a girl with an admittedly magpie-like liking for shiny pieces of jewelry. Not to mention that I am known quite well for wearing crazy-shaped bits of jewelry.

In any case, please favorite, follow, vote in my polls (either in a review, PM, or on the poll), and Review! The **5-Review policy** still is in effect.

Toodles!


	32. Taking Charge

Hullo my dearies! Welcome to another wonderful chapter of this incredible story! Sorry the updates are so sparse, but college at the moment comes first.

Also, I'd like to acknowledge **BarrelRacer1205** , **Steelcode** , **Estela prime** , **Guest (1)** , **Sfrizz5959** , **Cinematronix** , **X Valkyrie Prime X** , **bajy** , **Guest (2)** , **RebelRatchet** , **Ma-ki Ji-ez** , **Wildwolf** , **b. marr** , and the lovely folks who favorited and followed me and this story. You guys rock! Seriously, I had no idea how emotional I made the last chapter until I had all of you guys saying "awe, poor Aria" in your reviews.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime or any other recognizable sources. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 32: Taking Charge**

—Dream—

 _Floating suspended in a neutral-colored and shapeless void, he heard her calling for him again. Turning, he watched as the golden-haired organic chased after him, frantically calling out a name. Yet her words were distant and he couldn't make them out._

" _You would have made a fine Decepticon," Megatron's disembodied voice rang out._

 _He was so close. She just needed to run a little more and she would be able to touch him again. Just a little more._

"… _wiped out millions," another bodiless voice, a femme's this time, said. Her words were accompanied by the morbid image of him on his deathbed._

 _Why was she chasing him? Whose name was she calling? Why was she and all of it so familiar? What was she? Something nagged him at the back of his processor, but what?_

" _Hey Sangroyal."_

 _Calling out his name, she ran as hard and long as she could, but he just kept getting further and further away, whiles she seemed suspended in molasses. No, no, no! Just a bit farther!_

" _Hello, little one."_

 _She had her hand outstretched, and he reached out too, terror washing over him as he felt himself being pulled away. Though their words could not be heard, they both seemed to be saying the same thing: 'No. Don't go. I can't lose you again.'_

 _There was a flash and for a moment it was like they were observing two things at once._

 _In that moment while he had been dying, his vision blurry and unfocused, he had almost mistaken her with the divine being to which humans referred to as an angel. Her golden hair had created a halo-like effect and the bright white lights in the room had given his feeble optics the impression that she was bathed in a divine light._

 _The vision faded, and they were farther apart than ever, seemingly repelled like a pair of similar magnets._

 _Another flash and he was tucking stray hairs behind her audial, telling her he would see her again. It was a sweet moment, surrounded in light and warmth, but it faded all the same._

 _Before all faded to black though, one thing was shouted:_

" _I will find you!"_

At that moment, in two completely different parts of the world, a certain cybertronian data archivist and human blood fighter unknowingly both sat bolt upright in their beds at the same instance, bodily systems trying to recover from the aftermath the odd dreams had caused. Both of their minds were still reeling. However, they were both left wondering the same thing:

 _What was that?_

* * *

—Aria's POV, Couple Days Later—

It was a couple days after my little breakdown (and blood-loss induced hallucination), that something major happened. Ratchet had been trying to 'turbo-charge' the ground bridge again like Miko had suggested. The others were scattered around base doing wherever, and myself and Ratchet were near the monitors when a call from Fowler came in.

-{ **Ratchet! You awake? This is an emergency!** }- he hollered through the speakers, likely gaining the attention of everyone as we all gathered around.

"Agent Fowler! Is it Optimus?" the medic immediately asked, not even bothering to look annoyed at the government agent's rudeness.

-{ **It's the 'Cons! And they're busting into the same military research lab they hit two months ago.** }-

:{ _Are you serious?_ }: Bee buzzed.

"Another Space-bridge?" Bulkhead wondered with semi-exasperation.

"But for all we know Optimus is riding with them," Arcee reasoned, though I didn't quite think that that was the case.

If what Ratchet and Ironhide had been telling me was true, Orion Pax was not the type of 'bot that did anything with malicious intent, no matter if it was for a good cause. He was too kind-sparked and pure for that. Plus, he couldn't lie to save his life according to the CMO and weapons specialist. No, Megatron was probably going to keep Op— I mean Orion, close enough to keep an eye on him and far out of his reach. After all, in an army there are more than just the soldiers who are out on the frontlines; and an archivist could probably have some more worth to Megatron alive than dead.

However, I did not voice any of this as Ironhide barked at them all to roll out, and the team disappeared through the swirling vortex not a moment later.

* * *

—Orion Pax's POV—

As the cycles went by, Orion's suspicions grew, even as he worked on decoding Project Iacon for Megatron.

Ever since he has found that image in his internal drives, there had been an ever-present note of nagging suspicion in the back of his processor. This only grew when he read through the Decepticon data logs on the history of the war. It all seemed frankly vague to him, with little details or facts on certain events, especially regarding the Autobots and some of the past battles back on Cybertron. As he read on though, the vagueness became so great that he swore that entire sections had been blotted out or missing from the text. It was almost like someone had erased whole parts from the logs to keep certain bits of information under wraps. Orion would have attributed this to his ever-curious nature making him paranoid, but then he thought of that image and decided to be a little more cautious.

Even the crew seemed to be keeping something from him. They all spoke with slight but noticeable hesitance, choosing their words carefully.

Then, when he had asked Megatron about his SIC, Air Commander Starscream, the other mech had declared that he was dead, but Orion had found no mentions of the mech's death. But when he had gone back to double-check, a KIA report on the mech's demise was suddenly there. Maybe he had missed it…or someone had gone back and added that there after he had asked.

And today, when he had heard a commotion in the hall, the guard had told him it was nothing, telling him to get back to his station while they raced in the opposite direction, straight for the source of the noise. However, he knew what he had heard, and nobot could convince him otherwise, even if he had seen nothing but the silent TIC when he had arrived.

Something was up.

And it just made him all the more glad that he hadn't told anyone about that particular finding of that image in his drives.

Orion couldn't go to Megatronus though. The larger mech always had this look in his red optics, full of caution and calculation whenever he tried to ask him something. The archivist may not be good at reading others, but he knew when the other mech was holding back something. It was part of why he had refrained from telling the other mech about the image of the organic femme. Something in his processor just told him that it wasn't a very wise idea. So he kept it to himself, glancing at it every night before he went to stasis, like he feared that it would disappear or change into something perverted like some of his friends who had joined the Autobot's had.

What was going on?

* * *

—Aria's POV—

The mission had been a complete fiasco, as in, Arcee had managed to get onto the _Nemesis_ but had been booted off via ground bridge—courtesy of Soundwave—before she could look very far for Optimus.

Personally, I thought that everyone had been a little reckless on this mission, not just Arcee, who ended up needing defrosting after she had been dumped straight into the icy tundra of the Arctic. Yeah, that really went over well with the wrench-throwing medic as you can imagine.

In any case, with our spirits already so low, this more recent failure had really been the maraschino cherry on top, sending everyone into a tizzy once the 'bots got back and reported what happened.

Listening to them though, my newest headache only proceeded to get worse as my mood likewise did the same.

"You weren't able to determine the Decepticons' location or if Optimus was even aboard ship?" Ratchet snapped at Arcee, really rubbing salt into an open wound as he scanned her.

Already in a towering temper from her chilly trip, the blue femme looked away, though I could see the anger in her optics, which was primarily directed at one being: herself. "I– couldn't confirm," she bit out, shaking her helm.

Bulkhead was the first to snap. Grabbing some random device and lifting it with his brute strength, the green mech angrily crushed it like it was tin-foil.

"Bulkhead—!" Ratchet cried in his customary way, ready to scold the mech for breaking his stuff again.

"What? You needed that?" the normally gentle green giant snarled. "Only thing I need is our head honcho back!" He pounded his fists together.

Meanwhile, I just frowned even more, thinking how much he looked like a child throwing a tantrum and not scared in the slightest.

"It's not your fault," Jack tried quietly, leaning against the white crates Arcee was sitting on.

But the femme cut him off. "If any of us needed rescuing, Optimus would have found a way. I didn't. Simple as that," she said, words signaling the start of the blame-game as she wallowed in self-pity.

My expression got darker, and I snorted at the pitiful scene before me.

And it only got worse.

-{ **Ratchet! What happened out there? Reports indicate at least a dozen wounded. The heat's on me to provide some explanation. You bots better get your act together or the Pentagon will make me shut down your base.** }- Fowler said, angry words adding more gasoline to the brewing firestorm in front of me.

"But where would you go?" Raf asked, voice a little louder in the wake of the simmering pyre of anger all around.

"Who knows. Maybe they'll ship us out to some island or fire us into space! Wouldn't that be a welcome relief," Ratchet scoffed, words dripping with sarcasm.

"I don't blame Fowler!" Arcee butt in. "Optimus would have evacuated all humans in the area before engaging the 'Cons."

My own temper started to rise but for a different reason.

:{ _Yeah, he would have said that he could not tolerate any loss of human life because this is our war, not humanity's!_ }:

"We don't actually know what Optimus would have done because he's not here!" Bulkhead yelled, looking ready to smash more stuff like a metallic version of the Hulk.

A vein began to throb in my temple, eye twitching sporadically.

"You're pretty good at stating the obvious, Bulk. Anything else you'd like to mention that we already know?" Arcee spat, advancing a little on Bulkhead.

The rage grew, and my fists clenched.

"Nothing I can say in front of the children," he growled.

My knuckles turned white, trimmed nails starting to dig into my palms.

"Yeah because that's definitely stopped you before," Ironhide snarked, blue optics blazing and his servos crossed in front of the chest.

For a moment, I thought that the whole room was shaking before I realized that it was me who was shaking. This needed to stop.

"You wanna go you—"

Something snapped.

"ENOUGH!" I finally roared at the top of my voice, loudly enough to gain the attention of everyone in the room as well as silence them. My thunderous tone and dangerous expression left no room for arguments or speech as I fixed each of them in turn with a disapproving glare. "Look at yourselves, squabbling about like a bunch of headless chickens just because your leader is out of reach at the moment. _**Pathetic**_. If he saw you, how do you think he would feel? What he would see looking at you all? I certainly wouldn't be happy. In fact, I'm not because you know what I see? I see a bunch of pathetic ingrates, _children,_ _ **sparklings**_ , bickering over something meaningless like fools."

Many, like Bulkhead, Arcee and Ironhide, looked angry at that, but a couple (Ratchet and Bumblebee) had the decency to looked shamed too. _Good_. I was making progress, even if I hadn't quite gotten through to all of them just yet.

"You think you're the only ones to have lost him? Look around you fools! Each and every single being in this room lost him too! That doesn't make you any different or more important than someone else right now. _You are not alone_." I was fighting back tears now, but I kept up my angry façade, voice rising as I said, "You want him back? Well I do too! You want to find him? Well so do the rest of us! You want to smack him and tell him off for being a stupidly selfless self-sacrificing idiot? _WELL GET IN LINE!_ "

Some smiled ruefully at that, but no one made to interrupt me. It was a good thing too because I was on a role.

"I don't care who's doing what to find him! We are all _trying_ in our own ways!" I snarled, glistening grey's blazing like a thundercloud in a flashflood. "Now I understand that we made some mistakes today but griping about it isn't going to solve a single _freaking_ thing.

"Now I want each and every one of you get back out there and start looking again. If you find yourself having trouble driving one more kilometer, I want you to focus on making it one more mile. If you can't make that mile, focus on making it one more yard and then an inch. It doesn't matter. You are going to look, and we _are_ _going to find him_. I don't care if you find something as insignificant as a scrap of metal or a flake of red paint. A clue is bloody clue!"

By now, my eyes were probably blazing like the fires of hell. I thought back to my little…episode, and the conversation I had had with my delusion of Optimus.

"And if you still don't find anything, look beside you because right there is someone who has your back no matter what. _You are not alone!_ "

They all smiled at one another, hope blazing bright once again; all traces of anger gone.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I said firmly, "United we stand, but divided we fall. And I plan on bringing my guardian back _no matter what_ , even if I have to stand alone." I looked out at them all from my spot on the catwalk. "But you know something? He _is_ going to come back, and you want to know why? _**It's because he's got the best damn team there is!**_ "

" _ **YEAH!**_ " they all cheered, and the tension broke.

You could tell that they all were a little sad still, but they were infinitely determined nonetheless. And that is what counted in the long run.

Shooting me a nod of approval, Jack then took the lead, "And aren't we overlooking one positive? Nobody's talking about what the 'Cons just got their claws on."

Lips twitching, I returned the nod and look.

"Yes, we managed to allow them to finally acquire a power source for their space bridge!" the medic chuckled with false humor.

"And how exactly that would be a positive?" Ironhide interjected skeptically. I knew he could sense that I was up to something.

Jack and I shared a look before saying together, "We let them finish building their Space-bridge."

"Why? So they can bring more zombies back from Cybertron?" Bulkhead questioned.

Jack shook his head, black hair swaying a little. "No. So we can commandeer it."

"And use it to send _me_ to Cybertron," I finished firmly, causing everyone to gape at me.

"Woah. That's a pretty good idea," Miko admitted, eyes alight in excitement.

"Oh well, if Miko thinks it's a good idea—" Arcee began sarcastically before abruptly cutting herself off when she noticed the glare on my face that dared her to finish that sentence. _Not now_.

I may not like Miko but now was not the time to be fighting amongst ourselves. "Nobody is saying that it will be easy," I said with semi-forced calmness. "But I know for a fact that you have seized a space-bridge before."

"We blew one up," Bulkhead corrected. "That's a whole lot different than four of us seizing and holding one."

Bee rapidly buzzed something I didn't managed to catch, though Arcee thankfully translated.

"Bee's right. We have to find that thing first," she said.

"Uh hellooo!" Miko sing-songed, waving her hand to gain our attention. "If it's a space bridge, isn't it?" She pointed upwards like a mime.

I think we all rolled out eyes/optics at her stupidity, as Ratchet mercifully enlightened her. "The term 'space' refers to its transport range, not its physical location. And we've been monitoring Earth's orbit since the last one, we'd know if it were there," he sighed, shooting a glance at the monitors like he hoped that they would suddenly somehow correct him.

"What about their ship? Could it be on there?" I asked.

"No," Ratchet answered me, shaking his helm. "It would be impossible for them to do that without risking draining their ship, or compromising the bridge's integrity when they enter in and out of Earth's atmosphere. Space bridges require a tremendous amount of energy as well as stable environment because of how carefully they are put together. If even one component is just a smidge out of alignment, they risk creating a black hole."

"So, the Bridge could be somewhere right here on Earth?" Jack finally queried, pervious confidence finally failing him as he realized the impossible, daunting task before us.

"Like trying to find a servo at a scrapyard," Ironhide bemoaned. But then he caught my gaze, and something changed, making his optics narrow and spinal struts straighten. "But then maybe we better start looking."

My lips twitched, and I inclined my head a little, taking the lead once again. "We'll set up a grid by grid search pattern, ruling out any unlikely places that will compromise the bridge's integrity or are too close to human populated areas. We'll start with some of their old mining sites, if only to rule them out. I want two 'Bots on base at all times, one working as ground-bridge operator and another on curbside duty while the rest are out searching. We'll also need to set up shifts so that everyone can get breaks and have time to recharge and refuel before heading to your assigned station. Everyone needs to check in at least every thirty to forty minutes if you're out searching so that the base team can monitor your progress, and report any suspicious activity. _Do not_ engage if you see a 'Con. Hang back and wait for backup so that we can do this right…"

As I continued to issue orders to the best of my ability, looking out at the others as I spoke, I realized how much I actually enjoyed this feeling again, being at the head of the pack and doing my duty as a leader. Maybe Izzy and Optimus were right. Maybe I was meant to lead.

Continuing to talk, I didn't notice how Ratchet and Ironhide shared a look and several unspoken words behind my back, both of them smiling and nodding in approval.

* * *

—Ratchet's POV—

When the bickering and arguing began, Ratchet was ashamed to admit that he used it as an excuse to lash out at the others. It was wrong of him. But days of frustration, of not knowing and feeling lost without his leader, the medic finally snapped when the tension and strain became too much. He was tired of all this.

It wasn't until Aria finally snapped at all of them that he realized how immaturely he had been acting.

While she spoke with that characteristic fire that was her signature, her tone and words held hints of Optimus in them and yet reminded him of when he had first heard some of Megatronus' speeches. The passion, the cadence, the subtle advice and strength amid her drill-sergeant-like lecture, however; all her words spoke of Optimus and only _him_ , despite that righteous blaze in her eyes.

After Ironhide had told him about finding her unconscious in her bathroom with a trail of blood leading there, he had been fearful that the human femme would decline even further. She had been so fragile ever since the others had returned from the core that he had feared for her mental state. He had seen hundreds of 'Bots hospitalized for not taking care of themselves after something tragic happened to their friends. Many of them even died for being reckless.

But, Ratchet's worries were put at ease as he watched Aria stand before them all like a born leader and tell them off, rightly accusing them of being sparklings, much to their chagrin.

He still hadn't forgotten her little slip-up though. The one where she had revealed that Optimus had wanted her to take charge of Team Prime. He had been quite shocked—and maybe a little skeptical—at first, but he realized how fitting it was for her as he listened to her issue orders and commands.

"We'll set up a grid by grid search pattern," she instructed. "Ruling out any unlikely places that will compromise the bridge's integrity or are too close to human populated areas. Start with some of their old mining sites, if only to rule them out. I want two 'Bots on base at all times, one working as ground-bridge operator and another on curbside duty while the rest are out searching. We'll also need to set up shifts so that everyone can get breaks and have time to recharge and refuel before heading to your assigned station. Everyone needs to check in at least every thirty to forty minutes if you're out searching so that the base team can monitor your progress, and report any suspicious activity. _Do not_ engage if you see a 'Con. Hang back and wait for backup so that we can do this right…"

Her and Jack's idea had been admittedly genius, something he should have thought of, but he wasn't a leader for that reason among others.

"Are we clear?" Aria finished, looking at each of them, while he and Ironhide subtly shared an approving look behind the human femme's back, chorusing an affirmative with the others as they did so. She was so strong in stature and voice; Ratchet could barely register that the one speaking to them was in reality so much more fragile.

But when he caught sight of that familiar wariness that Optimus sometimes had after trying to appear strong for the others, Ratchet knew that the strength was only another front, a mask to disguise how she really felt. She like he and Ironhide knew that one inevitable fact still remained: they didn't know what the Decepticons had in store for Optimus. Or if he was truly safe from harm.

* * *

—Couple Days Later, Orion Pax' POV—

If Orion hadn't been suspicious before, he certainly was now as standing before him was none other than the supposedly offlined Commander Starscream.

"Optimus Prime?!" the grey mech screeched in surprise.

There was that name again: Optimus Prime.

"Please! I mean no harm!" he said, holding up his servos in a gesture of peace.

That didn't seem to ease the seeker's unease. In fact, he looked even more wary. "Oh! Then what are you doing here?!"

"Research. For Lord Megatron," he informed the screechy mech.

Starscream looked at him in disbelief, like he could not believe his audials. "Is this some kind of joke?"

Orion's optic ridges drew together. "I do not understand. And why did you call me 'Optimus Prime'?"

Again, he was regarded with a disbelieving look.

"Why wouldn't I?" Starscream said slowly.

"Because my name is Orion Pax. I am far from being a Prime," he told him, rather a humble being.

"You reminded me of someone I once knew. That's all," the red-opticed mech said.

 _Lies_ , a femme's voice hissed in his audial, and he was immediately back to being suspicious, never mind the strangeness.

"You are Starscream," he eventually stated.

"Yes?" The other mech had an unreadable expression.

"Lord Megatron told me you had been terminated," he told him, watching the seeker's reaction.

"Lord Megatron says many things only some of which are true."

 _That seems to be all too true as of late_ , Orion thought, processor drifting a little in thought.

The archivist recalled the dream he had had his previous recharge cycle. He remembered feeling horrible, like he was several times heavier than he was, and there had been a lot of pain too. It was almost like he had been dying with his vision unfocused and coated in a blurry haze.

Then he had seen that beautiful being with its helm wreathed in a gleaming, bright golden halo, bathing them in a divine light. They had looked like the heavenly being humans called an angel. He couldn't make out their features, but he could hear her telling him to hold on, that everything was going to be alright.

In any case, Orion suspected now that these dreams weren't so much of dreams but memory feedback loops. From when, he hadn't a clue, but these dreams were all too real to be anything else. He needed to figure out how far this strain of lies went, but the question was how.

Maybe he could…?

"You do not suggest that our leader would speak falsehoods?" he asked Starscream.

"You truly are being kept in the dark, aren't you?" was his only—very cryptic—reply.

Orion Pax shook his helm. "You speak in many riddles, Starscream. Please, tell me what it is that you know."

"And in return…?" the mech began to say before he was cut off.

"Starscream! Surrender!" a trooper cried, pointing their blaster at the grey seeker.

Just as he was not overly fond of using violence as a solution, Orion did not like weapons, especially firearms. Those that used them tended to think less with their processors and leaned more towards the path of unnecessary violence. That isn't to say all those who use them are necessarily violent, but it was often the case nonetheless.

"Hold your fire!" he tried to plead but to little effect as the seeker bolted out of there, the troopers hot on his aft.

"Remain in the lab," one of them ordered.

"But I—"

"Lord Megatron's orders."

And that was the end of that argument.

Still, Orion felt like he was getting closer to finally discovering what everyone was hiding from him. However, he made a mental note to do some after hours research, starting with the name "Optimus Prime".

* * *

—Aria's POV—

 _How does Optimus do this?_ she thought for the umpteenth time that evening, massaging her temples.

It had been an exhausting past couple of days since they had begun their search for the Decepticon space bridge. There still hadn't been any sightings yet, but they had been making progress nonetheless, even if it was a tad slower than they would have liked. However, Aria persevered and did her damndest to make sure that the rest of the team stayed positive, keeping their morale up the best she could.

She wouldn't even bother mentioning the nightmares that had been keeping her up on an almost nightly basis.

Ratchet had continued to fiddle with the ground bridge, though to little effect so far. But, Aria told him to keep at it, refusing to allow him to give up just yet. She had even employed little Rafael for help with the endeavor of keeping the medic from wallowing in self-doubt, informing him that his puppy-dog eyes would help prevent any wrench throwing tantrums. Though admittedly, most of these fits were the result of Aria antagonizing Ratchet when she got restless and bored.

Ironically though, it wasn't until one such evening, after one of those tests had turned out to be a failure, that they had managed to make some real headway. Aside from the mech's, Aria was the only human on base since everyone else had gone home. Ratchet was back to tinkering, (giving off several noticeable cues that he wanted to be left alone), and Ironhide was monitoring the others while Bulkhead had just returned from scouring another location.

"No sign of energon spikes," the green giant reported. "Arcee or Bee find the Space-bridge?"

"They haven't yet reported back," Ironhide said, looking bored out of his processor at being stuck on 'monitor duty' as he called it.

Noticing how quiet Ratchet seemed, the Wrecker then asked, "Ratchet. You alright?"

The medic seemed to have snapped out of whatever daze he was in. "Hm? Yes! Yes. Let's just get you to the next quadrant."

And then something odd happened. The green consoles started beeping softly, drawing our attention. Ratchet, being more adept with the technology, was the one who went over and checked it out.

"What is it?" Ironhide asked.

"A high-frequency signal. With an embedded message!" His optics then widened. "For me."

"Optimus?" Aria immediately prodded, walking across the catwalks to get a better look.

The medic shook his helm at the question, but his expression of surprise did not change. "Starscream. ' **I have obtained information regarding your Leader. Bring medical kit. Come alone** '."

"It could just be a trick," Bulkhead pointed out.

Ironhide snorted. "Ya think? Fragging coward probably wants to lure us into some kind of trap."

"Agreed, but we may have no other option. Starscream would not have contacted us out of the blue without a good reason. He may just have the information we need considering how highly ranked he was until he went rogue," Ratchet reasoned quietly.

They all turned their blue optics to Aria for a decision. Since she was the pseudo-leader at the moment—even if she wasn't formally appointed—her vote had the most weight.

She had a stormy look in her eyes, as she carefully considered them all. Eventually though, she nodded. "Go, but be quick about it, otherwise _I will_ send out the cavalry after you."

The three smiled at her, nodding their thanks, before heading through the bridge.

Unseen by them, the golden-haired girl smiled, getting the hopeful, fluttering feeling in her chest that their luck was just about to change.

 _We're almost there Optimus. Just hold on a little longer._

* * *

—Later—

"The Decepticons' Space-bridge is located right here," Ratchet informed us, when everyone was gathered at base. He was pointing at a map diagram with a blinking Decepticon insignia in one spot as a sort of 'X marks the spot' sort of fashion. "Deep within an Energon mine."

"Adjacent to a raw fuel supply," Arcce summed up. "Clever. What's our intel?"

Bulkhead, Aria, Ratchet, and Ironhide all shared a look, before Ratchet said, "A…reliable source."

Arcee gave them a look at the lack of elaboration, but when she turned to Aria, the girl shook her head and smiled tightly as if to say 'just don't ask'.

"So! Do we have a consensus?" Ratchet continued quickly.

Of course, guess who was the first to speak up. Hint: it wasn't Miko.

"Do we know if people can even breathe your atmosphere?" June asked with a disapproving scowl.

The Autobots all exchanged a look, giving the nurse her answer.

"I'll hook Aria up," Fowler said, catching everyone pleasantly by surprise. At the woman's look, he added, "Completely, state of the art. I still have connections at NASA."

"It's too dangerous," the raven-haired woman said, voice sounding almost pleading.

Aria resisted the urge to shake the woman violently, getting more frustrated with her by the minute. However, she managed to stay calm and say in a mature, even tone, "June. I know that this is hard. But my guardian Optimus risked his life to save our planet. And he's not even human. We owe it to him. This is not something you're going to stop me from doing."

"Aria may be the only one who can do this, June. But I don't want you to think for one moment that I'll allow her to travel unchaperoned," Ironhide said before adding, "Besides, Primus knows she needs the supervision what with her knack for finding bot's and trouble."

Aria scowled at him for that.

Then Ratchet added his two cents in. "Not everyone is destined for an ordinary life. Optimus Prime was once Orion Pax, after all," he said gently.

The woman looked down at her feet for a moment before sighing. Then she looked back up at the rest of us and finally conceded.

"Okay."

* * *

—Orion Pax's POV—

Orion wasn't sure what was fact and what was fib anymore. The line seemed to have blurred between the two ever since he had awoken, and he could barely make helm nor tail of what was what anymore. But after a conversation with Megatronus in which he realized that his friend had been probing him for information, the archivist took matters into his own servos, knowing that he could not trust anyone's word.

"Okay, 'Optimus Prime'," he muttered as he typed in the name, breaking through a couple layers of encryption with practiced ease. Eventually, a single profile remained.

"'Optimus Prime. Leader of the Autobot invaders'," Orion read in gaping disbelief. "I reminded Starscream of him? And Lord Megatron said Ratchet was the Autobot leader. Someone is not telling the truth."

He began to dig deeper.

Who knew? Maybe he would stumble across some info regarding that image he saw in his drives.

* * *

—Later, Aria's POV—

It was time.

We had done our best to scout out every inch of the mine we could, taking that info and using it to plan and strategize for what we were going to do.

Ratchet was going through the plan one last time. "We will ground-bridge directly in to the energon mine and make our way to the Space-bridge chamber neutralizing any Decepticon forces we encounter. Once we secure the Space-bridge we'll send for Aria."

"Remember," I said, "Stealth must be an absolute priority. You guys will most certainly be outnumbered and if any Decepticon should transmit an alert to their warship—"

"The odds become four hundred to one," Bulkhead finished for me, to which I nodded, eyes hard and steely.

"Scrambling communications upon entry will certainly provide an edge in this regard," the medic said.

"Taking the Bridge is the easy part," Ironhide said, double-checking his cannons. "You four need to hold it long enough for Aria and me to get to Cybertron and back."

We were all silent; we knew that this operation was going to be an all or nothing kind of scenario.

"Rafael climbed to the top of the rope in gym class; we can do this," Ratchet said, to which I raised a brow. I figured that there was some kind of story behind that.

"What does gym class has to do with anything?" Miko snapped before declaring, "And if Ratchet gets to go on a commando raid, I'm going too."

"Miko," the red and white mech said, turning his attention onto her. He expression was completely serious and left no room for arguing. "You will help Rafael operate our Ground-bridge and manage the communications hub."

Of course, our resident village idiot wasn't too pleased with that as she stormed away with a huff, muttering angrily, "Can't go to Cybertron, can't storm the Decepticon Space-bridge!"

I rolled my eyes but thankfully didn't comment.

"And nurse Darby will stand-by in case of emergency."

At last, Fowler approached me while the Autobots all got ready to go. "Ma'am? It's time to suit up."

I nodded.

* * *

Surprisingly, the spacesuit Fowler had acquired for me was nothing like the fluffy marshmallow suit I had expected. Actually, it was quite light and very form-fitting, reminding me of the space suits the paladin of Voltron wore in the show _Voltron: Legendary Defender_ , with a majority of it being black with some greyish-white armor in some areas. Really, it was more like a fitness, cat suit hybrid than a fishbowl crossed with a marshmallow.

In any case, when I came out in my new outfit everyone smiled approvingly.

"I'd ask how you got my size," I began telling Fowler before finishing with a smirk, "But I'm not going to look a gift-horse in the mouth. Thanks Suit."

I turned to June, who looked ready to cry.

 _Well, might as well try to act like a leader a little longer before I hand the reigns back to Optimus._

"June, calm down. It's alright, Ironhide will look after me," I told her.

She sniffled before launching herself at me in a hug. Being the idiot who has zero experience successfully comforting people, I just stood there awkwardly as she squeezed the life out of me.

"I-I know," she hiccuped, looking over me with a watery smile. "And I'm sorry if I seem overbearing. It's just that I—"

"It's alright," I said cutting her off. "And I understand. We as humans tend to cling to images of people from when we knew them best, forgetting that they do change."

The nurse's blue eyes lightened. "Thank you."

Feeling proud of myself for attempting to be the bigger person, I then decided to extend a tentative olive branch of friendship to the woman. "Tell you what June. When I get back, how about next Friday we have one of our little get-together dinner's, just you, me, and Jack. Just like old times."

"I'd like that."

We probably would have said more mushy stuff, but our chick flick moment was interrupted by the bot's radioing us.

-{ **Strike team to base. Objective secured.** }-

Everyone turned to me.

Fowler turned to me, simply saying, "That's your cue."

I nodded quietly, hands lightly brushing where I had strapped my batons at my sides before climbing down from the platform to stand before the swirling vortex of light. One last time I glanced at everyone, and I wondered if I would ever see them again.

"Bring me back a souvenir," Raf said confidently.

"Sooo…what happens when you have to go to the bathroom?" Miko wondered aloud.

"Safe journey, ma'am," Fowler bid me in a typical stiff soldier-like send-off.

"Good luck," June bid me.

Jack nodded. "Optimus needs you, sis."

I shot them all a crooked grin, despite the odd feeling in my stomach. "Catch ya all later once I wrangle me a Prime." I saluted them all, Fowler likewise mimicking me.

Stepping through the bridge seconds later, I found myself in a very large cavern full of energon crystals that gleamed and glowed softly. Ratchet was locking onto the coordinates of his home planets while Ironhide and I stood side by side before the dormant rings of the space bridge.

"You ready femme?" he asked me.

My eyes hardened with steel-like determination. "As I'll ever be, Rust Bucket. Let's do this."

"I'll leave the Space-bridge portal open in order to eliminate any communication lag over the great distance," the medic informed us. "And make it easier for you to locate when you're ready to return."

"'Easier to locate'?" I queried, brow arched. "From the sound of it, I'm guessing you're not bridging us straight to the Big V?"

The mech shook his helm. "Vector Sigma's true location is shrouded in myth and rumor, Aria. It is said that the path of the Primes leads there. We must be confident that Optimus will guide you."

I nodded and watched as the medic began to power up the portal.

"Don't worry, fem. Space-bridging is just like Ground-bridging," the weapon-oriented mech said before being forced to yell over the roar of the much louder vortex, "Just a little more intense!"

 _Let's do this!_

* * *

 _I can't believe it! I am actually on another planet_ , I thought in slight awe, taking in the ruined scene. Then I glanced at Ironhide and noticed the melancholy expression on his faceplates. "Ironhide?" I called out.

"This isn't how I wanted you to see my home," he admitted quietly, a sad note in his voice and expression grim.

I nodded, staying quiet because I knew that nothing I could say would make him feel better.

"In the fog of war, it's hard to see beyond the next leg of the mission or the next punch in the fight. We did everything to save Cybertron. But when the fog finally lifted…There wasn't much left to save."

I placed a comforting hand on his ankle, as it was the highest part of him I could reach. I didn't know what to say.

-{ **Ironhide! Aria! Do you copy?** }- Ratchet's voice broke through the beginnings of our morbid silence.

"Roger," 'Hide grunted.

"We're on Cybertron," I finished.

Everyone on the other end cheered. It felt like the moon landing all over again.

-{ **Just keep the sightseeing to a minimum, huh?** }- Arcee called from somewhere in the background.

-{ **Indeed**.}- Ratchet affirmed. -{ **We don't know if your journey ahead is 5 kliks or 5000.** }-

"Understood. Phoenix team out."

I raised a brow when the connection cut out. "'Phoenix team'?" I queried.

He shrugged. "Ya got the tat for it. So how we doin' this femme?" Ironhide questioned.

I thought for a moment. I was technically the leader in this, so I had better start making decisions and good ones at that. "Well, the Hatchet said that the keycard would guide us, so I wonder if…" I drew out the keycard from one of the suits pockets. It was glowing faintly, emitting a small hum depending upon which direction I pointed it.

"Guess that answers that," the mech said before transforming down, door popping open so that I could get in.

* * *

—Orion Pax's POV—

Meanwhile, a certain, curious mech was currently digging around in the Decepticon data archives.

"Why would the Decepticon archive be so heavily encrypted?" he wondered aloud, speedily cracking his way through them. However, when the pixels on the screen began to form an image, Orion found himself gaping in shock at the picture, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

"How could _I_ possibly be Optimus Prime?"

 _Who am I?_

* * *

—Aria's POV—

"That way," I said, pointing towards the ruins of a gigantic city up ahead as Ironhide did his best to avoid the large, war-torn chunks of metal strewn about. Despite the lack of inhabitants—which by the way was seriously eerie—there was a large cloud of dust blanketing the area, making it difficult to see despite the harsh glare of the sun above.

"Toward Kaon?" Ironhide exclaimed incredulously.

"That was the Decepticon capital, right?"

"Yeah."

"Great." My tone was dripping with sarcasm.

With the increasing feeling of being an ant in a giant's playground, we rode on until the mech suddenly stopped before a large bridge that led further into the ruined city. Taking it as sign to get out, I scanned the area, wondering what was up.

"We're on foot from here," Ironhide grunted, surveying the landscape warily. "Don't want engine noise to attract the wrong kind of attention."

"'Cons?" I probed, mimicking his actions and glancing around. However, there was nothing to be seen besides what the wastes of war left behind.

"Vermin."

Shaking my head, I decided to not press him, trusting his word; we didn't have time to waste.

"This way," was all I said, leading the way.

* * *

Sorry if this all seems a little cut and paste, but I promise the next chapter will be better. In fact, its already completed! So all you lovely folks need to do is comply to the **Five Review Policy** and you will have the next chapter in a snap!

So please, please, please…review, favorite, follow, and _VOTE IN MY POLLS!_

Toodles!


	33. The Challenges of Primus

Hey guys! As promised another chapter right off the bat! So let's make this quick shall we?

Thank you to those who favorited and followed and voted as well as **avatarange** , **AishaDream** , **bajy** , **LoyalBlackWolf** , **Steelcode** , **BarrelRacer1205** , **kage kitsune 14** , and **Sakura9544**.

And yeah so this is the chapter that is making all my friends call me "a sadist of an author" and I don't blame them. You guys will undoubtedly think I like torturing my characters too.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime, Voltron Legendary Defender, Justice League Unlimited, Harry Potter, or any other recognizable works you may find here. Just my insanity, the unique creativity of this piece, and Aria and her romance. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 33: The Challenges of Primus**

Overhead, Cybertron's two moon's shone brightly, giving the desolate land the appearance of a black and white photograph. But, even though the buildings had been abandoned long ago, it didn't lessen the feeling of being an ant in a giant's lair.

We, that is to say Ironhide and I, had been travelling for maybe about a half hour or so, yet we didn't seem any closer to the location of Vector Sigma. We just kept going through 'small' towns and villages—at least according to Ironhide they were relatively small, though at my height I was inclined to disagree—until reaching Kaon, the former Decepticon capital. But still, the key card just kept leading us farther in.

Behind me, I could hear the pound of Ironhide's footsteps a he followed. He was more focused on keeping an eye out for 'vermin'—whatever that meant—than taking in the surroundings and monitoring the keycard like I was. Sometimes, I would glance at a building or ruined sight and remember flashes from my dreams from events during the war.

It wasn't until we passed underneath some kind of gate arch that had a giant statue of Megatron erected above it, that I finally broke the eerie silence.

"We must be close," I commented quietly, noticing how bright the key had become. We were standing in some kind of dusty, circular courtyard that looked as though it once had some kind of magma rivers running through it, though they were now hardened and covered with variously-sized chunks of debris from the ruins structures around us.

Then it happened. I had walked farther into the vast space, keycard humming audibly and shining brighter than ever, when the ground suddenly cracked and started to shake. Some of the old pillars near us fell in great clouds of dust as the keycard got brighter and warmer, glowing like a miniature star. Then all of a sudden, the metal ground before us practically exploded as a large structure rose up from beneath it with a great rumbling screech of metal on metal. Eventually, the shaking stopped and we were gazing at some kind of…entrance, I suppose.

When I got nearer, the door lit up with a bunch of blue lines that were definitely cybertronian in nature, before opening with a creaking hiss and revealing a large, dark tunnel with a jumbo set of steps leading downwards.

Getting closer and glancing down the dark passage, I raised a brow. "Vector Sigma is down here?"

"Kaon didn't always belong to the Decepticons," Ironhide grunted, though I could hear a slight note of awe in his voice. "Megatron just took it as a capital when the war began. 'Course, it wasn't hard considering it was our version of Gotham."

Turning to look at him, I quirked a gold brow at him as if to silently say, "Did you seriously just make a comic book reference?"

He rolled his optics at the look and shrugged.

In any case, I shook my head before turning back to the catacombs. "Apparently without ever realizing what lay beneath their feet," I snorted with dry amusement.

Ironhide was about to respond when a bunch of dirt and tiny chunks of debris were disrupted from somewhere on top of the tunnels arch. Hearing a freaky chittering warble from the same direction that was nowhere even as cute as Bumblebee's beeps and whirrs, both our gazed turned up in time to see a giant, insect-like frame and a menacing red visor glaring down at us, glowing hatefully.

 _Oh shit!_ was all I had time to think as the thing launched itself straight at the mech, sharp claws aiming directly for his spark.

Luckily, the mech had sharp reflexes and managed to get away in time. Then he did what the weapon specialist did best: he brought out his cannons and started shooting the monster up like it was just another practice dummy on the firing range.

"You want some of this 'Con scum?!" he roared in challenge.

Unfortunately, the weirdly shape cybertronian had a thick metal hide, so the damage wasn't as great as it normally would have been if the Decepticon had just been a regular vehicon.

Too late, I didn't notice how its hindquarters bunched up in preparation to spring—though to be fair, I was a little preoccupied with the monstrosities' very sharp teeth—until the thing launched itself at the weapon's specialist with a bone-rattling roar.

"Ironhide!" I foolishly shouted, which in turn brought its attention right on me. Seriously, if I could see that things eyes, I swear they were focused straight on the keycard.

 _Uh-oh, spaghetti O_.

I did the only sane thing possible and booked it, knowing that the thing could easily outrun me in seconds. I guess I should just count myself lucky that Ironhide managed to distract it again with more cannon-fire, bringing its attention back on him.

-{ **Aria, what is your status?!** }- Ratchet called through the comm. link.

"We are being attacked by some kind of giant insect or beetle!" I hollered back.

-{ **An Insecticon!** }-

 _Gee, thanks for stating the obivious there Hatchet. I_ totally _hadn't noticed!_

I could hear the others talking on the other end, but I was too busy with the fight in front of me. Part of me wanted to help, though I seriously doubted that any of my usual tricks would work; and another part of me screamed that I should start down the tunnel to continue my search for Vector Sigma.

As if sensing my inner turmoil, Ironhide managed to pull himself away from the battle for a second and shout, "Aria! Go!"

Catching his gaze in that split second, I saw all the confidence and encouragement I needed to whirl around and sprint for the doors, ignoring what the others were saying. I didn't need their approval. This was my mission and my mission alone. Maybe it was just my pride talking, but they couldn't dictate what I did.

-{ **Seriously? Without Ironhide? He's her guide!** }- June complained.

-{ **No, nurse Darby, Ironhide is Aria's backup. The Key-Card is her guide.** }- my second favorite medic argued back. (My sister would always be my first).

Eventually, June said, -{ **Listen to him, Aria. You've made it this far. Optimus is counting on you.** }-

 _Glad you finally approve_. I thought sarcastically, though I made sure not to voice it. Merely murmuring, "Way ahead of you guys."

My eyes were as hard as steel and dark as a thunderhead as I entered the darkened path, keycard lighting my way.

 _Soon, Optimus. Soon. Just hold out a little longer for me._

* * *

Aria jogged down through the catacombs, doing her best to conserve her strength as her feet carried her farther from the fight raging above. Once or twice she nearly tripped on a small chunk of metal rubble, unable to see more than a couple feet. She wondered how much damage time and the war had caused the tunnel she was in, worrying about structural integrity and the entire places stability. It would really be bad if something like say a cave-in were to happen; she prayed to Primus that that never happened here of all places, especially not so soon.

Luckily for her, it seemed like the place was mostly sound, though she did pass one passage that was entirely blocked with wreckage. She probably could have cleared it with Ironhide's help, but he wasn't there, so she could only take the other path, hoping that it was a quicker route seeing as how the keycard didn't change when directed at either path.

Of course, thanks to little sleep, stress and the looming time crunch hanging over her head, Aria hissed in frustration when her path ended in a giant metal door, which unfortunately was closed.

Aria cursed quietly in Russian, using some of her old mentors more colorful phrases since she didn't want the kids to hear what she was saying.

-{ **What is it?** }- Ratchet enquired warily at the slew of foreign words.

"There is a bloody freaking door in my way, and it won't open," she snapped, eyes blazing as she kicked the massive slab of metal for emphasis, though to little effect.

-{ **Aria clam down.** }- the mech ordered, which the girl did reluctantly. -{ **Now is there anything nearby that can help you open the door? Like a lever or scanner or lock or something?** }-

"I—Wait, there's an inscription on it," Aria said, causing Ratchet to curse this time.

-{ **Do we really have time to play translator?** }- she heard Jack ask somewhere in the background.

-{ **No, but we have no other choice.** }- the medic sighed before going back to Aria, -{ **Aria, what—** }-

"It's alright Ratchet," she cut in calmly, shining the flashlight up at the cybertronian words. "I can read them."

In the background, she could make out Miko exclaiming something about her being alien too or something along those lines, but Aria just rolled her eyes and said quietly, "Optimus taught me."

Taking in the silence that followed those words, she allowed herself to sigh softly before turning back to the inscription on the door and began to read. "Okay, let's see here:

" _ **O seeker of the knowledge of the Primes,**_

 _ **Know that the path you have been set on is a treacherous one indeed,**_

 _ **And you must defeat seven of seven to move forth.**_

 _ **Riddled with horrors and traps to protect what the Creator decreed,**_

 _ **The unworthy have no hope to survive what lies beyond these doors.**_

 _ **Only those who have passed our trials and proved their worth**_

 _ **Will have earned the right to ascend above these floors.**_

 _ **So, beware, foolhardy seeker,**_

 _ **Heed our final warning and turn back now or face certain death,**_

 _ **For what you seek is just out of reach**_

 _ **To all those unworthy but a Prime.**_ "

She stopped, letting the message sink in.

-{ **Well that certainly was cheerful.** }- someone—possibly either June or Arcee—said dryly, summing up Aria's thoughts exactly.

"No kidding," she mumbled. "But I have to keep moving forward no matter what, for Optimus."

Ratchet vented on the other end. -{ **Very well, Aria, but proceed with caution. Whatever these trials are, they are meant to be dangerous, especially for humans like yourself considering that they are made with only one species in mind.** }-

Nodding despite the fact that no one could see it, she then held up the key-card a little higher before the doors like an offering, doing what only felt natural in this situation and trusting her gut on what to do. Yet, she wasn't too worried as the key-card flared brightly before the markings on the giant doors did the same as if in answer. The ancient warning glowing gold before the entire thing rumbled like a small avalanche and slowly slid upwards.

The young woman took a deep breath. _It's now or never_.

Then, without further ado, she stepped forward into a long, but no less towering, corridor.

* * *

—Challenge # 1: The Path We Walk—

Arched columns lines the way and there were these odd lights that hung on the walls in between, casting a faint light on her surroundings. It was almost eerily quiet though, which only served to increase her learned-paranoia as she walked. It wasn't until Aria walked at least the length of half a football field that she finally arrived in a large chamber that didn't really seem all that dangerous.

However, as soon as she was a couple feet across the threshold, there was a large sound like two anvils being smashed together as the corridor was sealed shut behind her, preventing her from turning back. The young blood fighter emitted another multicultural curse.

Anyways, knowing it was pointless to try and go back, Aria turned toward to the room at large and found a new inscription glowing at her feet.

 _ **O, insignificant seeker of the power of the Primes**_

 _ **Know that you have inevitably sealed your fate.**_

 _ **Your way back is blocked,**_

 _ **And the only way left to move is forward.**_

 _ **Prove to us that you can make sound and timely decisions**_

 _ **And defeat the first of seven laid before you.**_

 _ **Cross to the other side of this chamber to begin the first leg of your journey.**_

Grey eyes glanced up and finally noticed the door on the other side of the room.

 _Reach the other side of the room_ , she thought before shrugging. _Sounds easy enough. Maybe a little too easy._

As soon as the thought passed through her mind though, it was like some divine force had to go and spite her or something as the floor beneath the girl began to rumble like an earthquake before several sections literally fell away and others grew in height to form walls. All of a sudden, there was multiple metal-on-metal-like sounds, like someone was unsheathing several knives at once from their scabbards. That was then followed by a similar, more rumbly sound, and she watched as a large, bladed pendulum swung past before disappearing out of sight. With certain sections giving way to lava, white flames then roared into existence somewhere else, causing the temperature to noticeably increase, while electricity crackled somewhere else. There were many other concerning sounds too, but they were either difficult to discern or unrecognizable.

And all the while, only one thing came to mind:

"What the flying fuck?!"

It was a giant, fragging death course! Seriously, who in their right minds—or processors—would come up with this type of certain death trap? No one! That's who!

"Ironhide," Aria called into the comm. link, more than ready to ask him to make a new door out of here. She only to received static though. "Ironhide, dammit! Pick up!"

She tried again. "Ratchet? Ratchet do you read me?"

More static.

The woman stomped her foot in frustration. "Scrap!"

 _Great, just great. I can't even get a signal out_.

With a sigh and visible resignation, the woman's body turned towards the insane death trap set before her. She could still see the door on the other side, taunting her from across the room.

 _Well, it looks like I have no choice now. Only one way left to go._ She looked up at the ceiling and sent up a silent prayer, thinking, _I am so dead._

All she got in response was more fire blowing and other sinister sounds.

Moving one step forward, Aria's confidence grew a bit as nothing disastrous happened to her. Taking two more, she was about to make a third when— _shink!_ A large, wall-like blade sprung up in from of her narrowly missing her booted toes by about an inch. The girl cursed loudly, backing off and watching as the blade sank back into the floor. Its actions very much akin to the horrible sense of dread she could feel sinking in.

Eyes closing as she took a deep breath, the girl in the space suit opened them and regarded the challenge before her with a newfound caution. She inched her left foot forward and watched once again as the trap sprang up as soon as she was within foot of it. Glancing to the sides, she knew she couldn't go around; there were similar lines on the ground on either side and lava pools farther back. It was too high to simply climb over, so she would have to jump.

However, there was also the pendulum, fire spouts, nail beds, lava pools and other obstacles on the other side she had to worry about. If she didn't time this right, well…the answer was quite obvious as to what would happen.

With a surprising amount of patience, she watched, counting the seconds off between the time it took for the traps to activate, before counting again.

Over and over, Aria carefully counted, weighing the risks and calculating the time it would take her to make it through an obstacle. She made sure to even weigh the risk of there being more proximity-activated traps.

Hopefully, if she planned this right, Aria would get to the other side in one piece and wouldn't get herself killed on the way over. After all, these traps were obviously made for beings a lot stronger and larger than she was.

Backing up, she unsheathed both her short staffs from their holsters, making them both extend to their full length before mashing both ends together and causing the two staffs to link and lengthen until it was about 9 feet long (2.7 meters).

Sending up one more prayer for this to work, Aria then steeled her resolve, counting down the seconds until—

" _NOW!_ "

Then she charged forward, brandishing her staff like a pole vaulter's pole before planting one end in the ground, _leaping_ upwards and driving her front knee forward so that the staff turned pole bent a little…and then Aria was airborne, swinging upwards like she was made to do this. Vaulting over the once again active blade, she let herself extend forward over it until she had cleared the other side, before tucking her legs in, and letting go of her staff.

Gravity took over, and Aria tucked herself into a roll, turned the impact into a summersault, and came up standing.

 _One, two, three—Stop!_

The pendulum swung past her, creating a slight breeze that even she could feel.

 _Five, six—Go!_

She jolted forwards.

 _Stop!_

White hot flames roared into existence before her. They were so ridiculously hot; she swore she could feel heat blisters popping up on her skin from just being so close.

 _Seven, eight—Move!_

The flames had spluttered out, and she was moving again, determination shining in her steel-like eyes.

 _Nine, ten, move left, leap forward, pause._

Dancing and leaping from one section of the floor to the other, Aria could hear the spikes in the floor rising only seconds after her feet had left the spot.

 _Thirteen, right step, leap left diagonally, back one step, pause, large leap forward, right, leap forwards again._

She was now safely across the spike field, right leg narrowly missing a spike as she leapt.

 _Stop, twenty-one—_

The blade of the guillotine slammed into the ground barely an inch from the panting girl. However, as soon as it was gone, she jumped forward towards the pool of molten metal. It almost looked like she was going to be burned to a crisp, but suddenly several poles reemerged from the pool, seemingly impervious to the heat. Aria made the landing though, wobbling only slightly as her momentum disrupted her balance momentarily, before righting herself and continuing to leap from one surface to the other, nearly falling into the magma a couple times because of how far apart the poles were. But she kept going, continuing to count as she went.

 _Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six._

At last, just as the poles began to resubmerge themselves, Aria made it across, tucking and rolling as she landed while several small, high-speed objects raced by her. She didn't stop to see what they were though because the other door was getting closer by the second as she leapt a little to avoid the 'bullets'.

 _Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, HOLD!_

All around her, electricity crackled and arced from one tesla ball to the other as the streams cut out and activated in a visible, repeating pattern like with the floor spikes. But like a dancer, Aria moved from one side to the other, avoiding the deadly arcs of light. She was so close now.

 _Thirty, back-step, thirty-one, left, thirty-two, right, thirty-three, forward, thirty-four, diagonal, thirty-five, jump!_

Nimbly, she landed on an odd patch of ground, which kept shifting underneath her with no discernable pattern, making it hard for her to stay balanced. The floor was just constantly shifting, rising and falling, forming into deadly shapes before reforming back into innocently flat surfaces. Somehow though, she made it through.

She was in the home stretch now, just a couple more feet and—

Suddenly, the ground shook, and Aria barely got to see as the door began to close before a large wall jutted up from the ground in front of her like a sentry saying "You shall not pass."

It was _very_ large, and much too big for her to try to pole-vault over, even if she did have her short staffs. Still, the blonde-haired girl was nothing, if not determined to see this through.

 _We shall see_ , she thought challengingly, eyes like steel as she single-mindedly began to climb. Odd knobs had begun to appear on the wall thankfully, but they were hard for her to grasp. Not to mention, that the distance between them was not ideal as once again, they were made for something much larger than she. But she tried her damn best, using her feet to kick off as times or even resorting to swinging herself over to the next hand-hold, despite how strongly her arms protested.

Almost half-way to the top though, things took another turn for the worse. The hand-holds, which were as large and wide as car tires, had slowly begun to sink back into the wall, making it all the more difficult for the girl. It was only through pure, unshakable determination that she managed to make it to the top.

Her throat closed on itself though when she caught sight of the doors. They were already halfway closed, and she still needed to make it to the bottom. Aria it her lip, lowering herself, only to slip and barely catch herself on one of the hand-holds. But then it sank into the wall too, and she was left to fall with nothing to catch her.

And it was only by luck—and much cursing—that she managed to land and not break a leg, though she could feel pain arcing up her legs due to the impact. Wincing, Aria straightened up before turning and taking off at a dead sprint, gunning for the slowly closing door.

 _I'm gonna make it. I'm gonna make it. I'm gonna make it. I'm—_

She barely squeezed through the foot-wide opening before the doors shut with an echoing _boom_.

Panting profusely, the girl hunched over, trying to catch her breath and clutching the stitch in her side. But she was smiling triumphantly.

"Made it."

She was one step closer to Optimus.

Absentmindedly, she reached up to wipe away the perspiration on her brow, but stopped when her arm came into contact with her breathing mask. Frowning a little but not commenting, Aria straightened so as to take a better look at her surroundings.

Calm unlike the damn obstacle course of death—that was what she decided to call it—Aria stood in a hall that looked exactly like the one she had ventured through previously. Same towering ceiling, same eerie blue lights, same…everything.

Aria dearly wished she could pinch the bridge of her nose in irritation. If she had somehow ended up in the same hall as before, she was…she was going to do something terrible. Maybe start throwing flaming hot quesadillas or something.

 _Wouldn't that be a sight?_ she thought with a wry chuckle as she began walking. _All will tremble in the presence of the great quesadilla thrower, the Dark Phoenix! Fear me or be pegged in the face by piping hot quesadillas!_ she snorted. _Pfft, yeah right._

And with that in mind, she focused on reaching her next challenge, remembering that she had read that there were six more left of the challenge riddle was to be trusted.

 _I wonder what it will be?_

* * *

—Challenge # 2: Trial by Fire—

 _ **O, faithless seeker of the conviction of the Primes**_

 _ **Know that you are one step closer to your goal,**_

 _ **But still have some ways to go.**_

 _ **Prove to us that you can follow faithfully as well as you can lead.**_

 _ **Listen to your guide, no matter the face they take,**_

 _ **But take heed and do not look back,**_

 _ **Lest you lose yourself along the way.**_

 _I think I'm beginning to see a pattern here_ , I mentally grumbled, frustrated by the apparent inability of the Primes to speak plainly or be less ominous. _Miserable hippies and their damn riddles…_

Sighing, I looked at the barren white landscape before me. It was as large as the last trial chamber and just as empty. The only major difference was that it was colored a bright, ethereal (annoying) white and lacked a visible second door like the last one, which somehow made it even more spooky than the nice, safe hall I had come out of. Of course, like last time, it had closed behind me as soon as I was in the next trial chamber, preventing me from going back. Now I stood in an unknown setting that reminded me of the Hyberbolic Time Chamber from Dragon Ball Z.

Gazing around at my bleak surroundings, I suddenly gasped when I found that I was no longer alone. There, not even ten feet away, stood a pearlescent being as silent and calm as freshly fallen snow. A ghost. They were slightly transparent, so their features were hard to discern against the white backdrop. But when I did catch sight of the figure's face, oh how I wished I could touch my face to stifle the gasp that escaped my lips or wipe away the tears that flowed when I saw who it was.

"R-Raoul?"

The pale imitation of my father figure smiled at me, looking almost melancholy. "Hello again…little dove."

All of a sudden, it was like I was a little girl again, and I smiled freely though my facial muscles greatly protested. Chuckling, my feet carried me forward until I was less than a foot away, but when I reached out to hug him, my hand passed right through him. _I couldn't touch him_.

Shocked, I pulled back, understanding now why he smiled so sadly.

"Why…? What…? How are you here?" I managed to get out, a million questions on the tip of my tongue, all clamoring to be verbalized.

But he merely shook his head. "Come little dove," he said, reaching out a hand invitingly, though we both knew we could not touch each other.

Like an obedient puppy, I obliged, trailing after him into the white beyond.

It was like I was a kid all over again. My excitement and curiosity knew no bounds despite my hard-won maturity. "I have so much to tell you Raoul, so much I wish to ask, but I don't know what to say first," I told him.

"Come," he merely said.

"Where are we going?" I pestered him, but he mutely shook his head again as we continued to walk. We probably should have reached the other side of the chamber by then, but I wasn't entirely paying attention. Which, in retrospect, was probably an ignorantly foolish move on my part. But I was too happy to care.

Then I heard it.

Like before, right before I had accepted responsibility of the keycard, it started out as a slight buzzing, like a bug flying near my ear. But then it grew louder, gradually increasing in volume and clarity. It seemed to be coming from behind me. I went to turn around—

"Don't."

I looked back at Raoul, who was ahead of me. Despite being half-transparent, his serious expression stood out as clear as polished glass.

The whispers grew, and I tried to turn again when one of the whispers sounded closer than before.

"No."

I looked at him again, confused.

"Whatever you do, don't look back," he intoned firmly. "No matter what or who you hear."

Hesitantly, I bobbed my head in a small nod, still confused.

We pressed on, and the otherworldly murmuring lessened for a bit. I could almost ignore the sound if I didn't pay attention.

Then, someone else called my name.

"Hey Aria!" It was Jack. I thought for a moment it was coming from the comm. link, but I registered how close he was. He was calling me, voice fading in and out at times but still discernable. "Hey is that you?"

Then his voice faded and a new one took his place.

"Aria, turn around! I want to talk to you about something," the voice of Raf now called, voice sounding closer and clearer.

My eyes drifted over to my father figure, who was looking at me with a grim, understanding expression. But like his words before, his eyes silently warned me not to turn around.

Suddenly, a loud, bone-shaking, shriek-like roar came from behind me, and I tensed. Large, clawed footsteps issued from behind, rushing closer and closer. I wanted to turn around, to see what was coming at me, but Raoul's order stopped me.

 _Trust_ , I reminded myself, shoulders stiff and tensed as I remembered the words of the trial's riddle. _I need to have faith and trust in him_.

Muscles aching to turn around, I grit my teeth, causing my jaw to ache as I continued to march forwards.

Whatever it was that was making the sounds did not stop though. In fact, I think it got worse.

"Miss Darknight," called the silky-smooth voice of Silas right in my ear. "Or should I say… _ **Aria Slade-Cage**_?"

Hissing like I was in pain, I clutched the side of my head with one hand while the other balled into a fist, shaking ever so slightly. My jaw was starting to hurt from how much pressure I was putting on it.

"Shut up," I told it quietly, wishing he would go away.

"Now, now my dear, you really shouldn't be like that," he said chidingly. His voice was so close now I swore he was right in my ear. "Especially when I have this."

"Big sister!"

I froze on the spot, turning as rigid and stiff as ice as I listened to my baby sister scream. My eyes

"Aria! Please!"

My lips moved, forming a silent, pain-filled 'no'.

"Help— _Ahhhhhh_!"

Stopping, I screwed my eyes shut, head bowed. "No, stop it," I whispered again.

"Big sister! Help me!"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! You're not real! Shut up!" I screamed, clutching my helmeted head like it would help block out my sister's agonized screams. Just hearing them was torture in its purest form; the single worst thing I had ever heard.

Then came the last, and by far the worst voice of all: Optimus'.

"Aria! No! You must listen to me! Stop! Do not listen to that man!" he pleaded desperately.

I screwed my eyes shut tighter.

"Little one, please, listen to me! Do not trust that man!"

By now, my eyes were blown wide as my hands hung limply at my sides. But even as my grey eyes looked ahead, they saw nothing as I was too wrapped up in this devilish form of psychological torture.

"Aria! Please!"

There is this story from Greek mythology where a man named Orpheus lost his wife. I don't remember what happened to her exactly, but he loved her so much that he used his legendary music skills to create his own entrance to the Underworld so that he could visit Hades and bring her back. The lord of the Underworld, while he rarely ever let souls go, was impressed with Orpheus' skill with a lyre and after some convincing from his wife, the springtime goddess Persephone, eventually agreed to let the man's wife go. However, the god set one condition: upon leaving the land of the dead, the man must never look back. But Orpheus, fearful when he was unable to hear his wife's soft footsteps, chanced a look back at her, causing her to disappear.

I now had an idea of how he felt.

"No! Stop you must stop!"

A single tear fell, joining the others soaked into my neck. "I'm sorry," I whispered, staring down at my feet. "I'm sorry but you're not real."

Then, squaring my shoulders, I pushed on, now fully blocking out the voices.

Eyes shifting to Raoul, he smiled approvingly, like I had just passed the first part of the test.

"What's next?" I questioned, voice hoarse.

Eerily quiet, the ghostly apparition who was facing me, shifted his head a minutely and glanced ahead at our path. At his silent prompting, I followed his gaze, eyes widening at the sight before me which hadn't been there a couple seconds ago.

However, just taking it in, it irrevocably reminded me of the pits of Hell (or what I thought they would look like anyways). Tongues of smokeless flame licked the air ravenously, glowing white-hot as they danced together in the vast field of fire.

"Holy shit," I muttered, taking the blazing scene before me. Everything, and I mean _everything_ , was covered in fire. The scorching tongues licking hungrily at everything they could get yet leaving no trail of smoke or ash in their wake. It was horrifically hot too, like I had just stepped into an oven set to its max temperature; I felt as though was sweating bullets despite my suit. And to be quite frank, the sight of the fifteen-foot tall flames were probably enough to terrify and cure a pyromaniac for life.

"Did you know that in some cultures, fire is believed to be a holy device able to cleanse and purify people of their past sins?"

Stiffening at the sound of the honeyed voice, I glanced over to find that a new specter had taken Raoul's place.

"Lusio," I growled angrily at the apparition of my self-proclaimed rival, temper rising with the flames. "What are you doing here?"

The man blinked lazily, eye-smiling at me as his lips curled into a haughty smirk. He was totally unconcerned by my show of unrestrained anger. Of course, not that I would blame him since in this form I technically couldn't hurt him.

"You know most civilized people in my country start with a nice 'hi' or 'hello' and then ask how you are doing," the smarmy bastard continued nonchalantly. "It's common courtesy you know, called manners."

My temper flared as high and hot as the flaming field. "Well, where I come from, we take the so-called common courtesies of asinine people like you, tape 'em to a stick of lit dynamite, and shove them up your a—"

"You have to cross it," he interrupted, completely ignoring me.

"Excuse me?" I snapped, affronted.

He sighed in a put-upon way like he couldn't believe that he had to explain things to such a lowly simpleton like myself. "You have to cross to walk through the flames to get to your goal." He said it all in a slow, loud voice, like he was talking to an older person with bad hearing.

"And I thought I was the idiot at times," I grumbled. "I'll be burned alive you fucktard. Or can you not see past your own over-inflated ego?"

Yes, I know that cursing is bad. But thanks to my lack of a decent night's sleep for the past couple of days, the rough regime of my life had become like a whetstone for my wicked, sharp tongue. Combine that with all the stress I was currently being put through, and you have a bitchy, mean Aria Slade-Cage on your hands whom curses enough to make a sailor blush. In other words, no sleep plus Aria equals disaster and bad temper.

Even though he was transparent, his eyes gleamed wickedly as he shrugged nonchalantly. "Fine, stay here and burn for all I care. You won't be able to survive if that's the attitude you are going with."

Then with a cocky smile that put a strutting rooster to shame, he vanished, leaving me to curse him out and sweat like crazy on my own.

"Great," I muttered, throwing my hand up angrily. "Now what am I going to do?"

My grey eyes took in the flames before me, which burned without cease. I couldn't see any source of fuel that kept the flames alit. It really was as though they had been conjured by some mystical source.

A sigh escaped me.

Despite my hatred of him, I thought about what the 'ghost' of Drake Lusio had said.

" _You have to cross it."_

I shook my head vigorously.

 _No, no. No. Just no_. I trusted that bastard about as far as I could throw him. I knew just about everything that came out of his mouth was bullshit. _But still…_ I glanced at the flames again. I needed to get across. But the question was how?

" _Did you know that in some cultures, fire is believed to be a holy device able to cleanse and purify people of their past sins?"_

Then I thought back to the challenge riddle.

' _Prove to us that you can follow faithfully as well as you can lead. Listen to your guide, no matter the face they take…'_

Comprehension dawning, I remembered Raoul's words on that one horrible day so long ago.

" _You've got to have faith, little dove. Faith and trust._ "

Mentally readying myself, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, clearing my mind before opening them again as I exhaled. It may not exactly be the clichéd leap of faith. But this literal trial by fire was a pretty big leap for me, especially considering who had told me to do it.

"Faith and trust. Faith and trust," I muttered like a mantra, taking one last deep breath before walking straight into the inferno.

It was unnerving in a way, willingly walking into the fire. A normal person would run the other direction in the face of the ginormous inferno. But I was doing the exact opposite of what any sane person would do; I even nearly had a mini panic attack that brief second before my body was covered in fire.

And then I was consumed.

However, I didn't burn, much to my mounting surprise. In fact, I felt nothing at all. My body was at its regular temperature, if a bit toasty, and my suit wasn't caught on fire or turning into ashes. I was perfectly fine in the middle of an inferno; I almost laughed at the irony of being called the Dark Phoenix now.

Walking through it wasn't much harder either. Sometimes I imagined that I could feel something burning me, but that was it. I merely felt as though I was wrapped in a soft blanket, fresh out of the dryer.

All too soon, I found myself stepping over the threshold of a ridiculously large door and into another identical hallway, completely unharmed. It was only as the doors were closing behind me though that I heard one final whisper.

"I am proud of you my little dove, _ma fille_." (my daughter)

I smiled and continued on, never once looking back. Two down five to go.

* * *

—Challenge # 3: A Game Well Played—

Stepping out into the third trial chamber, I found myself standing on a raised platform, overlooking what appeared to be a giant game on the floor below. The floor was checkered like a chess board and the walls were colored red and grey with a white ceiling overhead. A couple steps in front of me, a set of stairs led below, and the trial riddle was engraved in gold at my feet.

 _ **O, forsaken seeker of the strength of the Primes**_

 _ **Know that faithless you may be,**_

 _ **But you have not won the game yet.**_

 _ **Leaders lead by example and know the strengths and weaknesses of their comrades.**_

 _ **Prove to us that you possess a leader's worth**_

 _ **And can utilize the skills of your team to their fullest potential,**_

 _ **For united you stand, but divided you fall.**_

Suddenly, just as I had finished reading, I heard the sound of garbled, static-like crackling from my comm. link as it came to life once again.

-{ **A…ria? Do…read me?…Please respond!** }-

Though the speaker's voice wavered in and out for a moment, I could tell who it was straight away.

Unseen by him, I smiled a little, glad to hear a familiar voice again. "Ratchet?" I called back. "It's Aria. Can you hear me?"

-{ **Aria?! Oh thank the Allspark you're alright!** }- I could hear the relief in the mech's voice. -{ **What happened? Your signal cut out and we couldn't reach you.** }-

"A lot, believe me," I replied lowly before shaking my head. "But that's beside the point. Look, long story short: I have to pass a couple trials to get to Vector Sigma. I've already passed two of them, but I think I need your help on this next one Ratchet."

-{ **What is it?** }-

Smile widening, I found myself glad I had Ratchet to back me up. Unlike most people, he didn't waste any time asking useless questions like if I was alright or not, jumping straight to the meat of the matter so to speak.

"Well I'm looking at some kind of two-player game here. It's got this diamond-like board and about sixteen pieces per player, though one looks to be missing."

-{ **You mean Fullstasis?!** }-

"Yeah, whatever it is. I need you to explain how to play it, quickly," I continued hurriedly, knowing how pressed for time we were.

And so he did, and it turned out to be quite like chess. And the most ironic part? The only missing item was a life-sized piece that basically functioned like black queen. And guess who got to play that part? Yep, yours truly. And may I just say: I feel like I'm stuck in a Harry Potter movie (minus the magic).

I didn't dare try to straight up cross the room though, opting to play the game rather than risk the consequences from trying to cheat the trial just because the door on the other side was open. Knowing my luck, I'd probably dropped into a black hole or be drown in a vat of acid or something.

Ratchet did his best to help me though, telling me what moves I could and could not make, so I'm guessing he must have drawn up his own diagram of the game or something as I told my side what to do or where to go.

With his help (since the others 'bots had never taken the time to learn the game), I managed to win with minimal casualties on my side, shouting "Fullstasis" at the piece that functioned like white king, and therefore winning the game as it threw down its sword in surrender. Meanwhile the other remaining white side pieces did the same as the opposite door finally swung open.

Saying goodbye to Ratchet as his voice began to cut in and out again, I was about to leave when my eyes caught on the king-like pieces' sword. It was only a simple longsword, about 120 centimeters or so, but it was finely crafted despite its simplicity and a very real weapon, as in _not_ a cheap movie knockoff. I hummed a little eyeing it, before carefully picking it up to examine it closer. Considering I had lost my batons back in the first trial, I knew I was going to need some kind of weapon for the remaining four trials so I could defend myself.

So, with that thought in mind, I took the weapon with me, unaware that I was meant to take it.

* * *

—Challenge # 4: Riddle Me This—

Looking around, I had to admit that of the trial chambers I had seen so far, this one was the most impressive. Dimly lit by faint light, the circular room was covered in hundreds of variously-sized crystal formations from top to bottom, some of which even glowed too. Even the floor and multiple closed doors spanning the room were formed into intricate, interlocking patterns that must have taken forever to perfect and create but was no less awe-inspiring.

In retrospect, the room was a tad small compared to the others, but that was hardly noticeable even as the doors slammed shut behind me, trapping me in the room.

Gazing down at my feet, I allowed my eyes to adjust before beginning to read the riddle.

 _ **O, foolish seeker of the wisdom of the Primes**_

 _ **Know that you are halfway there,**_

 _ **But the tests that lay ahead will be harder still.**_

 _ **Prove to us you possess cool intelligence under pressure,**_

 _ **Illuminate your own way**_

 _ **But choose wisely.**_

For the umpteenth time that day, I dearly wished I could massage the bridge of my nose.

"Riddle me questions, riddle me rhymes, riddle me a headache. I've said it three times," I rhymed snarkily to no one in particular. "Oh thank you Primus for this _oh so wonderful_ experience. Not."

Sighing, I considered the riddle. To me, it sounded horribly short and incomplete. Maybe that's just me being nitpicky, but my gut said otherwise. Peering into the gloom, my eyes at last landed on the shapes odd shapes in the middle of the room. Approaching with extreme caution, it looked to be some sort of table with seven variously sized and colored crystal samples. Next to it stood some sort of thin pole that housed a vice-like contraption about eye-level and some kind of device that reminded me of a laser pointer with a small on/off switch on it to boot. (At least, I hoped it was. Only raised about a couple inches above the metal arm that held the vice, the arm with the laser had it mounted so that it pointed directly at the vice.

Turning back to the table (which was surprisingly perfect for my height), I also found a small, engraved plaque, propped up and resting behind the crystal samples. Eyes straining a little in the near-darkness, I began to read it:

 _ **Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,**_

 _ **Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,**_

 _ **One among us seven will let you move ahead,**_

 _ **Another will transport the seeker back instead,**_

 _ **Two among our number make you pressed for time,**_

 _ **Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.**_

 _ **With no visible keyhole to open the way,**_

 _ **You must find the correct light or be led astray.**_

 _ **Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,**_

 _ **To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:**_

 _ **First, however slyly crystal bane tries to hide,**_

 _ **You will always find some on dead-end gem's left side;**_

 _ **Second, different are those who stand on either end,**_

 _ **But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend;**_

 _ **Third, as you see clearly, all are different in size,**_

 _ **Neither dwarf nor giant unleashes your demise;**_

 _ **Fourth, the second left and the second on the right**_

 _ **Are twins once you use them, though different at first sight.**_

I had to read through the riddle a couple times, making sure I understood everything before inspecting the various colored and sized gemstone formations. Ahead, there stood three closed doors with no visible way to open them, but I had an idea of how to open them now.

In essence, for those who have trouble putting the pieces together, this riddle was a logic puzzle, and I had to use the stand and laser-light to illuminate one of the correct crystals to open up the way.

 _Yeah, I definitely feel like I'm in a Harry Potter movie now. All that's left is for a spiteful author or director to smite me because they hate my character_ , I thought cynically as I read through the riddle a third time. Still, releasing a sigh, my lips quirked at the corners because I was pretty confident about this riddle. While most kids had been getting into drugs and gangs and other nasty stuff on the streets, Azriel and Sarakiel had been drilling me with logic puzzles and other similar stuff to improve my intelligence and chances of survival.

I took a small step back…only to flinch when I heard a _click_ followed by a large rumbling from above.

Head snapping upwards so fast that I almost gave myself whiplash, I cursed when I saw that the ceiling was now slowly descending upon me, threatening to impale and inevitably crush me with its multitude of glittering, sharp and various-colored teeth.

"Okay, okay. You two are obviously going to lead me to a dead end," I said hurriedly, pointing to the second, garnet-like crystal formation and the sixth and largest mineral growth, which looked a lot like smoky quartz. I could hear my heart hammering again in my chest, fingers twitching nervously.

Then I pointed at the first, a diamond-like clump and the fifth peridot-colored formation, which were about the same size. "Then, you two are gonna probably kill me even faster. You"—I was pointing at the seventh formation, a beautiful purple sapphire clump—"Can take me back. Thanks but no thanks. Which means you, little beauty, are gonna get me out of here," I finished, a nervous smile on my face and pointing to the smallest crystal chunk, which looked to be made of either aquamarine or indicolite, and stood innocently beside the second to tallest gemstone chunk, a cluster of citrine.

In any case, I wasted no time grabbing the blue gemstone, wincing when the rumbling-grinding sound grew louder, like it was speeding up. To make things worse though, an odd _plink-clink_ sound started up too, and I didn't realize what was going on until I found myself falling.

"Holy shit!" I screeched, legs dangling precariously above an unknown abyss as other tiled sections of the floor started to give way. _Well now I know why the floor looks that way_ , I thought, heaving myself back up with shaking limbs. One hand was on the Fullstasis sword while the other gripping the blue gemstone so tightly, I almost feared I would turn it to dust.

But that didn't matter as I scrambled over to the light-fixture-device-thingy. (I have no idea what it's called)! Jumping from one patch of solid ground to the other, my hands shook as I jammed the little aquamarine into the vice, twisting the little wingnut to hold it in place as the entire place shook and groaned, before praying one last time to whatever divine force was out there and flipping on the switch.

Silence.

There was nothing but dead silence.

Peeling open my eyes that I hadn't even realized I had closed, I found that the floor, the ceiling, everything, was stock still. The only thing that had changed was the laser-light's beam was now dispersed and refracted to various pockets of crystals around the room, shining brightly in the dim room. I swore I even heard it humming a little as I stood a little straighter.

Finally allowing myself to breath, I nearly jumped out of my skin when door on the left suddenly opened to reveal another look-alike passage. At that point, the gem grew even brighter on its own, becoming almost blinding as I raised up my hands to shield my face. Then, with another low, musical hum, it yanked itself free and settled into the pommel of the sword I still held.

 _What the pit?_

In the end though, I just shook my head.

"I hope you know this, but I really hate you right now, Primus. I just really hate you," I said before shakily making my way to the door, more than eager to get out of there as my claustrophobia/nyctophopia started creeping up on me again.

I just hoped that the next challenges weren't as crazy as the last few.

* * *

—Challenge # 5: Defender's Duty—

"Oh eff my life!" I screeched, ducking another bolt of blaster fire and doing my best to protect my new precious cargo. Nestled into my side, the sparkling in my arms whimpered, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it resorted to the cybertronian version of waterworks.

Yeah I wasn't too fond of that damn hippie, Primus, right now.

Like all the others, this challenge had started out as relatively simple. The trial's usual inscription reading:

 _ **O, selfish seeker of the integrity of the Primes**_

 _ **Intelligence is one thing,**_

 _ **But know that strength without a spark**_

 _ **Is nothing more than a bully with a big stick.**_

 _ **Prove to us your empathy and selflessness,**_

 _ **And do your duty as a defender of peace and innocence.**_

 _ **Become the shield and rock for those who cannot stand on their own,**_

 _ **And protect the sparkling at all costs**_

 _ **Or lose all that you have gained.**_

All in all, it was pretty straight-forward and simple. Protect the small sparkling—aka baby cybertronian—I had found at the start of the challenge and get it to safety at the other side. Now, admittedly, I am not really one for babies; let's face it, I barely survived taking care of Izzy when she was a baby, and I was lucky that she wasn't one of those high-maintenance brats. However, it seemed simple, and I was damn determined to see this through.

Of course, things here were _never_ as simple as they seemed, and I soon found myself barely avoiding multiple shots of blaster fire as I flew through the infernal _labyrinth_ that had sprouted from the floor like a loaf of rising bread as soon as I took a couple steps forward.

Now I was running pell-mell wherever, looked safest since I had no fragging clue how to get out of this bind. I could only run for so long, and so far, all I had found were a plethora of dead-ends. At this point, I wasn't past considering that possibly the maze was actually in a constant state of change or something.

"'Accept this great offer' he says. 'You'll be fine' he says. 'You'll like it even.' Well, Primus I hope you're happy, 'cause this ain't funny!" I snarled, dodging another flying projectile as my words dripped no small amount of sarcasm. "I hope to hell you choke on your laughter you insufferable jerk!"

The sparkling in my arms began to bawl, and I grimaced.

 _Think, Aria. Think!_ I scolded myself, wracking my brain over and over. I was just so tired; barely anything made sense anymore.

Shoes screeching a little on the floor, I dove into a slightly sheltered alcove, feeling a stray bolt barely miss the right side of my head by a few scant inches.

The sparkling wailed even louder into my suit as I fruitlessly tried to soothe it.

"Shhhh…little one. It's gonna be alright. You'll be fine," I said to no avail.

That was another thing. Right now, I dearly wished I could have some of Ratchet's advice right now. He would probably be having a litter of cyber-kittens right now since I was probably holding one of the last sparklings, but whatever. Knowing him, he would give me advice on how to properly hold the tiny thing—as it was about the size of a human toddler—tell me to calm my heart rate as that new-sparks would probably find comfort in that, and speak in a soothing, gentle tone or something; of course, I didn't really do soothing or gentle.

The sparkling cried louder as another bolt of energy came dangerously close to frying us.

 _Desperate times call for desperate measures, Aria_ , I reminded myself, forcing myself to calm down and slow my breathing and pulse rate like when I did tai-chi.

 _Think calm._ I took a deep breath, eyes closing momentarily before I tried to calm the alien baby down again.

"It's okay, little one. It's alright. I've got you," I said, voice low and 'soothing' as I could manage as I rubbed circles on its back and around its little wings. It seemed to be working as the volume of the wailing cries decreased drastically; I allowed myself to smile a little. "Yes, that's right. Ignore the bad sounds. Focus on me. You're alright. It's all okay."

Humming a couple bars of Toberu Mono from "The Last Story", the sparkling's crying faded altogether as it tried mimicking the humming sound I was making, which make my smile widen a bit more. Mentally, I patted myself on the back, proud of my little accomplishment.

"Now are you ready to get out of this maze?" I asked the little femme with a teasing tone, causing her little green bio-lights to brighten as she giggled, nodding like she understood.

However, when I focused back on the chaos, I found nothing but silence. Peering out, I realized that the maze was gone, with only a couple walls still standing. Hesitantly, my feet carried me forward as I creeped toward my exit point, which was only about thirty meters away. Everything seemed to have been put on mute or something, and the only sounds to be heard came from myself and the little femme sparkling.

Speaking of which, she seemed to want down, little digits gripping the cloth of my space-suit and tugging on it a bit. Her little green-blue optics were wide and pleading.

"Oh alright little alien version of Isabelle," I relented, despite the near-certainty that something was bound to happen. Setting her on her pedes as gently as possible, the little thing squealed excitedly as she then toddled off towards the open door. I was about to follow when I heard the tell-tale whirr of a gun powering up.

I did not think; I did not even consider. One moment, I stood frozen in place listening to the sound of looming death. The next, I lay on top of the sparkling as the gun, no _guns_ , went off.

It was like someone had just put a hot water bottle against my back as it got oddly warm. But that was it. No pain, no screams, no bright white lights, pearly gates or flaming pits of hell. Just nothing.

Eyes wide in surprise, I slowly got off the little femme at her gurgling request, tapping my face mask in mimicry of a soothing action. I twisted my neck so as to try and glance at my back but again found nothing, as I allowed the femme to take my hand and pull me along to the door despite the dazed funk I was in.

Reaching the door at last, the sparkling let my hand go, turning to face me with a crooked smile on her lip-plates.

"Buh-bye!" she suddenly said in a cutely slurred voice, waving enthusiastically.

All I could do was stupidly wave back as she then walked through the door and literally vanished into thin air. I don't know how long I stood there like that, gaping like an idiot at the spot she had vanished as my brain tried to compute what had just happened. But when I did snap out of it, all I could do was shake my head as I followed in her footsteps.

"Boy this place is trippy."

* * *

—Challenge # 6: Knowledge or Death?—

 _ **O, prideful seeker of the knowledge of the Primes**_

 _ **Know that before you lies the hardest test of leadership to come.**_

 _ **Though many possess the strength to do so,**_

 _ **Most lack the courage or mindset to accept this truth.**_

 _ **To pass this trial: you must lay me aside before I consume you.**_

 _ **Now take sword in hand and face your opponent,**_

 _ **Prove to us your humility and strength,**_

 _ **And tell us, which do you choose: knowledge or death?**_

Glancing up at the center of the room, there stood a giant knight statue in the middle of a bright array of like light a natural spotlight in the large, well-lit room. I mean, I think it was a statue. It was hard to tell with cybertronian artefacts. Anyways, it looked like someone had gone and mashed together the Annihilator, the Destroyer, and a sentinel drone with cybertronian designs slapped on its frame. It even had a Matrix-like insignia emblazoned on its chassis. Two to three times as tall as me, its interlocked fingers rested on the pommel of a beautifully crafted cybertronian greatsword. At least, I thought it was a greatsword, but it was hard to tell considering it was scaled to Atom Smasher size. All I knew though is that a sword that size could have easily functioned as a flyswatter for someone as small and—dare I admit it—fragile as me.

Suddenly, my eyes bugged as I surveyed the titanic form with small spikes on its shoulders, a thought hitting me.

 _Wait…_

My gaze drifted to the sword still clutched in my hand from the chess game.

 _Does that mean…?_

Limbs suddenly feeling like I had been put through a week-long, intense workout session, all blood drained from my features as I gaped in dawning horror at the monstrosity in front of me. I barely even registered as I fell to my knees, connecting the dots.

 _Oh fuck my life._

Looking down, I examined the sword in my hand critically. It wasn't long as a claymore, or basket-hilted sword, nor as strong as the folded metal of a katana. But if it was my only defense, then it would have to do; I'll take a bastard sword over a rapier any day for sure. It was just my luck that it was about as light as any other longsword. Still, swordplay wasn't exactly a common skill in these more modern times, and while I can honestly say I knew how to use a sword, I was no doubt a little rusty.

I glanced at the statue and shook my head, banishing the doubts to the furthest reaches of my mind.

 _For Optimus_ , I reminded myself as I steeled my resolve, stepping forward to face my newest trial.

Then, clearing my mind and taking a deep, steadying breath, I got into position, allowing basic instinct to take over as my limbs slid into the proper fighting stance. Back straight, my grip on the sword was firm but relaxed and fluid, with my left hand placed lightly just above the round pommel and my right stationed near the crossbar, thumb on the cross-guard itself. Sure, the grip may not exactly sound right, but in reality, it would optimize my speed, maneuverability, and thrusting.

Both legs slightly bent and spread apart, my left foot pointed forward, directly at my opponent while my right was angled away to the side, creating a sort of ninety-degree angle between them. Since I didn't know what my opponent was capable of, this basic stance would allow for more maneuverability as well as create a strong defense, so I wouldn't be pushed over so easily. Raising my head slightly and shifting my shoulders at an angle, I raised the sword in a plow or _pflug_ guard stance, so that the tip of the sword was pointing directly at the robot's chest, and the hilt was held off more to the side, in front of my hip-joint, rather than dead center between my legs. Now, I could protect the side of my body and threaten a thrust or lateral or rising cut. Admittedly, it was more of a defensive position than others, but it was physically less demanding.

Of course, no sooner had I slid into my stance, but the robot suddenly went online as if sensing my readiness to fight. In the place where a face should have been on a 'bot or human, the air/eye holes of the robot's mask suddenly glowed white, much like the weird, Matrix-like insignia on its chassis lit up blue. Yet, even though I could not see the thing's face or optics, I swear it was looking straight at me as it suddenly hefted it's ginormous, two-handed greatsword and shifted into a flawless _oberhaw_ (or "strike from above" if you didn't know) stance with the sword held perfectly vertical.

My lips curved into a grimace.

Now, for those who know nothing about sword fighting, let me just say that this stance is a brilliant way to go. Meant for delivering powerful and quick strikes, it's quite unpredictable since you are no longer telegraphing which direction you are going to strike from, either left or right.

Shifting a little, I watched as it approached me, and I realized for once just how big this behemoth was compared to me. I legit barely reached its navel, and I know I'm pretty tall, especially for a girl.

Then it suddenly struck. Moving faster than I thought possible for something its size, I barely managed to bring up my sword up in time to block its strike on my left side.

 _Clang!_

 _Holy shit this thing is strong!_ I thought, struggling to even stay balanced against the onslaught of abundant strength I was now pitted against. I'm not even sure how I managed to hold my own in the first place! Maybe the robot was just weak, or I was just that strong. In any case, it was only by some miracle that I managed to parry the attack away with the _forte_ (strongest part) of my sword.

Not missing a beat, the robot went in for another _oberhaw_ strike, this time catching me on the short edge (underhand/weakest part) of my blade, forcing me backwards as I tried to maintain my balance. Damn it! I needed to get in closer under the robots' guard where I would have more power.

-{ **Aria…what's…going on over there?** }- Ratchet's voice crackled over the comm. link.

"Kinda…busy here…Ratchet," I grunted as my limbs shook, and sweat beaded on my brow.

Swords screeching a little as they scraped against one another, I was forced to back off until I was practically kneeling on the floor, with the goliath bearing over me. With each second that passed though, my opponents blade got closer and closer to turning me into a bloody mess.

So, pushing back as much as I could to gain some leeway, I quickly twisted out of the way, hearing as the goliaths blade clanged loudly against the floor.

-{ **What's…status?** }-

I didn't get to respond as the next few minutes—though it felt longer—were a blur as I ducked, dodged, weaved, bobbed, and generally executed just about every sword maneuver I knew. Nothing seemed to work on this thing!

-{ **Aria…respond!** }-

Caught in another deadlock, I could still feel my arms shaking crazily with the guarantee to give out soon if I didn't do something and fast.

"Trying…to…not…die!" I strained with apparent effort to say each word as I struggled, saying the last word with some relief as miraculously managed to push the bot back a little. Then, going on the offense, my blade hit the base of the automaton's, and I twisted, putting all my weight into a downward thrust.

 _Clang!_

The Vulcan's—as I had decided to dub the metal monstrosity—blade clattered to the floor, but that was it for me as the Vulcan then backhanded me, knocking all the wind out of me and sending me sailing backwards.

Black spots danced in my vision, but I could just barely make out the seemingly indestructible metal monster picking up its sword before turning in my direction.

-{ **Aria?! Tell us…the Pit…going on!** }- This time it wasn't just the comm. link signal that was fading in and out; I think I might have gotten a concussion or something from that last blow because I was having difficulty discerning what the others were saying.

But in the face of my sheer bullheadedness, I never complained once.

"Some kind of gladiator guardian…have to…beat it," I wheezed, still recovering from the blow.

Seeing it walk almost leisurely towards me, I knew there was no time to get up as the Vulcan raised its sword high above its helm for what it likely intended to be the final blow. I probably would have been died right there too had I not lifted my sword at the last minute in a miraculous half-sword guard. One hand holding the hilt firmly and the other braced against the flat of my sword blade, the tip of the greatsword stopped just an inch away from the oxygen mask I wore as my limbs trembled and shook with the strain to hold it back, sweat beading on my forehead.

"Too strong," I groaned, on the verge of giving up, muscles screaming and limbs shaking worse than ever before.

Strength failing me, I'm not sure if I imagined this part, but I swore that I heard the others telling me to get up, to keep fighting.

-{— **No matter what, you have to succeed, Aria! For Optimus!** }-

-{ **You've got this!** }-

-{ **Don't give up!** }-

-{ **You can do it!** }-

My vision was almost all black now until only one word registered in my feeble mind:

 _Optimus_.

And suddenly I felt a burst of strength return to me, eyes going wide.

Twisting and bending like I was trying to do the limbo, I managed to let the Vulcan's blade fall where I had been, sliding between its legs and scarcely succeeded in scrambling to my feet and away from the giant. Panting and trembling with sweat gathering in uncomfortable places, I eyed the black and grey titan with a new clarity and unbreakable titanium-like determination in my gaze as I brought up my sword to defend. Again, our blades met again, yet all the while, all I could think in my new bout of clarity of mind was: _I won't let you touch me. You're not going to cut me. I_ _ **will**_ _bring you down!_

If I wasn't dead sure that this robot wasn't sentient, I would have sworn that it was trying to mock me, using its superior strength to literally push me back, feet sliding against the floor, despite my solid and strong stance until my back pressed against the trial chamber's walls. Then, it drew back, ready to unleash a new, powerful blow; one strong enough to at least knock me out when the back of my head slammed into the wall.

Yet, I was ready for it as I used my natural speed to my advantage, ducking out of the way and causing the blade to once again crash into the walls of the trial chamber. I didn't even bother hoping that its blade had been damaged somehow though; this thing was unbeatable and point blank indestructible.

But as we exchanged another flurry of blows, a thought suddenly struck me like a bolt from the blue.

 _Wait…'Lay me aside before I consume you'…? Of course! It all makes sense now! This challenge was_ _ **never**_ _about physical strength! 'Prove to us your humility'? That must mean…_

Certain that this was the answer, I pivoted on the spot, gracefully dodging another oncoming blow from the metal monstrosity as I raced back towards the metal plinth the robot had previously stood on, from where I had glimpsed a slot the perfect size of my sword. Several times, I had to roll out of the way or change my direction slightly when the automaton got too close and tried to turn me into a bloody Aria-crêpe. But, I was damn determined to see this through. So, blocking another strike from the robot, I batted the blow away to the ground on my right, twirling away to the left to avoid the swift, upward slice that followed, and danced back some more.

I prayed that this would work as I avoided another oncoming slash. Sprinting forward like Satan himself was nipping at my heels, I took my sword, pointing the blade downwards and plunged it right into the slot until I was kneeling. The Vulcan got closer, ready to split me in two doubtlessly.

Meanwhile, the blue gemstone in the pommel shone brightly, but I watched as the titan neared, raising its sword high before swinging down to deliver the final blow…only to stop a couple inches from my head.

I permitted myself to breathe again as it lowered its blade, knelt in a similar position like the one I was in as the glow behind it's mask eventually dimmed and faded to black. Smiling in relief, I got shakily to my feet and taking in that oh-so musical sound of the door to my next challenge opening.

This trial had really put me through the ringer as it would any person, especially a leader. Most people thought it was harder to win a battle. But little did they know that the harder challenge still was to know when to give up, to stop and surrender or call a retreat. That takes real guts and not many people I knew could allow themselves to do such a thing. As all my mentors had told me, the true test of leadership isn't charging blindly into battle against innumerable odds—though that is pretty hard—but in making the hard call or decision like calling a tactical retreat. That was true leadership.

My fingers massaged the side of my face through the fabric, feeling a bruise forming along my jaw.

 _Six down. One to go. I'll see you soon Optimus_.

* * *

—Final Challenge: Enemy of a Memory—

 _ **O, cowardly seeker of the fortitude of the Primes**_

 _ **Know that you have one last test ahead of you**_

 _ **Before you reach your goal,**_

 _ **And it will be the most grueling of them all.**_

 _ **Go forth now, to the center of the room,**_

 _ **And embrace your final opponent for these challenges with open arms.**_

I stared at the inscription incredulously. That was it? No ominous warning or words of advice? No maddening riddle or subtle hints? Surely there was more to it.

I shook my head. Whatever, I was going to go out there anyways and face whatever challenge that stood in my way because whatever it was, I was going to beat it. For Optimus.

I had to.

So, taking a deep breath, I stepped out towards the center of the room, waiting for something to happen as I did so, but the journey was silent. Nothing, so far as I could tell, so much as tried to twitch. It was eerie, and I didn't like it. In fact, I was almost relieved when the odd ring in the center of the floor suddenly lit up as I stepped into it. Hearing the sound of metal shifting, my grey eyes, which had been watching the darkness with silent wariness, shifted their gaze upward only to find some kind of gun-looking device was pointing directly at me, already charged and primed with a blast ready to go. Unable to do anything, all I could do was watch with silent horror as the gun fired a multicolored beam in my direction.

Yellow, red, green, blue, and then all became black as night as terror set in like a wave of ice-water; I was out before I even hit the floor.

* * *

Ta-Da! So who thinks I'm a freaking sadist for putting Aria through this? It's alright to admit it; I know I am insane.

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed, and I assuaged some of your worries about Aria's and June's relationship. I don't know when I'll get the next chapter out, but hopefully it's before All Hallow's Eve! (Aka Halloween)!

Please tell me what you think about it all, including the references and such if you want. I'll even be nice and give you a hint about the next chapter: it's titled "I'm Comin' Home"!

The **Five Review Policy** is still in effect so please favorite, follow, vote on my polls and review to feed the monster!


	34. I'm Comin' Home

Howdy once again folks for the third time this month.

Now, just a couple of things before you guys read this chapter. First and foremost, thank you to **bajy** , **Sfrizz5959** , **LoyalBlackWolf** , **Sakura9544** , **2GrayBoys** , **Guest (1)** , **Midna the Pokemon** , **RebelRatchet** , **BarrelRacer1205** , **Steelcode** , **b. marr** , **tyikamicalacai** , **Keith** , **Da Hero** and those who favorited and followed me and my story! You guys rock! Seriously, I don't think any of you understand just how much I appreciate your efforts.

Second of all, yes, this chapter is gonna be kinda sad and does have some horror themes for the last challenge, but I promise it will most definitely be a happy one too.

Thirdly, I'm sorry if it seems like I'm making fun of or laughing at any of you, but all your responses about the cliffhanger were so funny. I just had to comment on that. Hahaha.

To **Da Hero** : if I could reach through the screen and give you a hug I would. Seriously, your review made my day. Thank you so much, and I'm glad you like my work.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime or any other recognizable work. Please enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 34: I'm Comin' Home**

Groaning in pain, I was slow to get up and even slower to open my eyes. It felt like someone had just run over me with a battering ram and then paved over me with tar.

"Ugh. What the hell happened?" I groaned, opening my eyes and blinking a couple times in surprise at how odd I sounded. Then I caught sight of my surroundings, alarm escalating.

"What the fuck?!" I screamed though the voice that spoke them didn't exactly sound like mine.

I wasn't on Cybertron anymore, that was for sure. It was dark out, but I could tell that I was in some kind of street alley. However, I got the odd sense of déjà vu, like I had been here before. Looking down at my hands, I yelped again when I found that I wasn't in my space suit anymore. I felt my face, surprise growing. In fact, I was dressed in nothing but some dirty, ripped cargo pants, a form-fitting black tank and the usual black steel-toed boots. They all held up well enough, but these clothes certainly had seen better days.

Then my eyes fell on my skin, and once again shock rippled through me. Ever since I had started fighting, I could recall where I got each and every one of my scars and the story behind them. But as I looked at my skin, I realized that some were missing. Actually, some looked as though they had been de-aged to the point that they were only weeks– _days_ old! Scrambling around, my jaw dropped when my eyes fell on my reflection in a window.

Somehow I had been de-aged until I was at least nine or ten years old!

"Yo, Nix! There you are!" a familiar voice cheered, stopping my heart dead in its tracks.

Looking up, I saw a walking dead man grinning down at me from the top of the building. Or rather, someone I knew to be dead.

"Rat?"

Like a born acrobat, the scruffy kid with his wild black hair leapt forward, catching the railing of the fire escape, swinging himself up and walking along it like a tight rope with his bare feet before flipping and landing on the ground before me with little effort. He even finished it off with a little flourished bow before straightening and looking at me brightly. He was very lean, almost dangerously so, and the agile acrobat of a kid was almost half my size.

" _Oui_ , _Feuervogel_! Tis' I, your effer debentable, Rat!" he said, the Belgian boy smiling in his usual peppy manner. (Yes) (Firebird!)

Paling, I looked at the scrawny boy, like he was a ghost, and he technically was. Jules Adalgiso, or rather Rat as we called him, was a small and very skinny seven-year-old boy from Belgium who had illegally immigrated to America. His parents had sent the dark-haired kid ahead, planning to reunite with him in a year or so. But the Dutch/Germanic/French-speaking boy had had a hard time trying to adjust to his new environment and trying to survive on the streets until me and my crew had taken the half-starved boy in.

But he had _died_ when he was seven!

"Come on! Copra is making his sbecial dinner tonight! Ve haffe to hurry or zere vill pe none left for us!" he said in that thick accent of his, taking my arm and tugging me along, completely missing the disturbed look on my face.

Dazedly, I followed Rat, easily scrambling up a nearby rain downspout like a monkey after him, though probably with less grace. Then we began to run, leaping from one rooftop to another, taking a route to a place I had not visited in years. Home.

 _Primus, what is this?_ I wondered with slight foreboding as we headed to the only place I had called home. _Was everything just a dream? Or is this another test?_

"Ve're home!" Rat yelled loudly, breaking me out of my thoughts.

Along with a mouthwatering smell, several voices greeted us (using several multicultural greetings) as we walked into the derelict building that had been abandoned for a long while. It was only a rundown warehouse with too many holes to keep a decent amount of heat trapped inside. But it had become a home to me and my crew once we decided to take up residence there.

 _Speaking of which…_

I looked around at the other people who were there, remembering all their faces and smiles with breathtaking clarity until their lives had been snuffed out like a candle in the breeze. But the thing was, they were all right there, looking at me and very much whole and alive. No ridiculously large pools of blood. No empty eyes devoid of life. They were just _there_ and perfectly fine.

There was Heather Black of Scotland. A shy and very much mute girl, only a year older than me, with flaming red hair with stark white tips. It was always pulled back into a pony tail and away from her vibrant green eyes so we nicknamed her Fox or Foxfire as she preferred.

Next, there was Kiania Santos. She was a Brazilian beauty with some Spaniard heritage thanks to her grandfather on her mother's side. Her parents had abandoned her when she was five, and she had been shipped from one foster home to another until she decided to take a chance out on her own. Kia was the social butterfly of the group, our Mariposa; my group had saved her and Fox from getting raped by a gang member. She had an impressive temper though, especially if you messed with Fox, as we found out quite quickly.

Then there were the twins: Tadashi Nakamura and Laquan Chéng. Well, they weren't actually twins, as Tadashi was from Japan and Laquan from China, but they looked so alike and acted so much like brothers that we all unanimously dubbed them as twins. The two were always making bets on stuff, money passing between the two more times than anyone could count. Laquan, or Thorn, had actually moved here to America to get away from his father's shady, black market, smuggling business, and Tadashi (aka Ghost)…well he never really talked about his past much, but we didn't care.

And lastly, Kale Bashar. He had actually _saved me_ when I had accidentally picked a fight with the wrong guys. It wasn't until I had come across the ridiculously bulky and muscled guy a week later, being picked on by the same blokes, and I helped fight them off, that we became friends. I always forget where he is from, and his lack of an accent does not help. I just know that it had a lot of sand and sun—like Arabia or Egypt since he could speak those two languages flawlessly—before he had moved to Hawaii as a kid and then later came to the states. However, despite his large, intimidating physique, the guy was nothing more than a big, push teddy bear. The only reason we nicknamed him Cobra was because he said, and I quote, "It just sounds like a cool name, you know?" In any case, since he was the longest-standing member of our group (having known me for about half a year longer than the others), he had become like my second in command, as everyone unanimously voted that I was the leader of our little gang.

Together, we were the Night Furies; a group of renegades and runaways who looked after each other like a family and didn't take shit from anyone. We would raise hell if one of our own was injured by a gang member or someone…or we used to, until that day.

"Yo, Phoenix. You alright?" I heard Cobra ask from his spot over our little campfire stove, drawing me out of my thoughts yet again.

Everyone was looking at me with varying faces of concern. I guess my inner turmoil of seeing them alive and well had shown on my face.

Giving my head a little shake, I said, "Fine, fine, just thinking."

While everyone else seemed to accept the excuse, the mocha-skinned giant studied me a little longer as I picked at my bandaged arm. He always seemed to see right through all my excuses and the stony masks Azriel and Sarakiel were teaching me to put up. Maybe that was why we called Kale, Cobra; he could taste the deceit upon the air just like a serpent.

Eventually though, he said, "Well, I hope you are done because dinner is ready!"

Everyone cheered heartily at that, crowding around him to get their share. We didn't have much in general, but what we had was enough. I smiled. Our family more than made up for the luxuries we lacked.

Holding two steaming bowls of soup, Foxfire bounded over to me. She, like Rat, were the younglings of our group, despite her being a year older than I was. Maybe it was just because I was so tall, even as a kid.

"Thank you, Fox," I said coolly, accepting the bowl and causing her to light up. "You have a good day?"

She nodded and began explaining in detail about her day, pausing a couple times in her signing to eat before going at it again. I smiled at her, nodding as I watched her 'talk', even signing my own snippets for her benefit as I devoured Cobra's tomato basil soup with gusto.

Nearby, I could see Rat swinging from the rafters on the ropes we had strung up for him. He was teasing the twins about something as they all joked and laughed at Rat's new tomato-red mustache. Even from across the room, I could hear one of the twins saying their classic line "Hey, pay up."

I rolled my eyes at that.

Over near the pot, Mariposa was having an intense discussion with Cobra as he ladled the last portion of our meal into a paper bowl for himself. He met my eyes from across the fire, and I knew we were going to have a discussion about my behavior later. It would probably be during our night watch shift that we had together later that evening.

* * *

Sure enough, I was right. As soon as everyone was asleep, Cobra cornered me.

"So, you wanna talk about it?" he asked me in that deep, steady voice of his that always held a ray of warmth. In a way, I had always found him comparable with a cup of hot cocoa, with whipped cream and marshmallows; warmth, chocolatey skin, very sweet and soft on the inside like a marshmallow. Of course, I would never on my life tell him that, for fear that he would toss me into the nearest source of freezing water as retaliation for that comment; he could be pretty ruthless (if a bit of a show off) when he wanted.

"Not really," I admitted, staring determinedly straight ahead into the dark. Though I knew he would make me talk eventually.

"You were thinking about what happened to your arm again, weren't you?" he surmised.

"Yes," I found myself saying grudgingly. My tone clearly told him I was not in the mood.

"You know you're going to have to let go sometime right?" he prodded, and I grit my teeth.

Though everyone here knew why I had left 'home', he was the only one I had told about what had happened to my arm; the others I suspected had listened in or a certain little Rat had been eavesdropping.

My expression darkened like thunder and my voice held the figurative crackling of lighting about to strike. "No, I don't think I will."

Cobra heaved a long-winded sigh, like he had been expecting this. "Aria, I'm serious," he said, using my real name for more effect.

I snapped. "And I am too!" I hissed, barely keeping my voice low enough so as to not wake the others. "Every day, I know that bastard is out there hurting more people, and I can do _nothing_ to stop that– that _butcher_ , from hurting them. Kale, I am the only one who has ever survived that attack when I shouldn't have, and I can barely recall what he looks like enough to put that _babosa_ away for good." (slug)

"Survivors guilt. You should be happy that you did survive at all," he tried to comfort.

A growl rumbled for the back of my throat, and I forcibly turned away from him. "Sometimes I wish I hadn't." I left after that, just like I had last time. I didn't get to see the shock and horror written on his face at the words; but now that I knew what was going to happen, I wish to hell that I had stayed. But no matter how much I fought, my legs still carried me away as I ran like a coward, a sickening feeling pooling in my stomach.

* * *

Time ticked on and the time of the worst night of my life was rapidly approaching. I wanted to leave the underground fighting ring as soon as I got to the location, but no matter how much I fought, I continued to go through the same motions of that fateful night. It was worse, worse than Raoul, worse than the hell my mother put me through…a million times worse than anything that sicko did to me. But I knew it wasn't going to stop there as my feet carried me back to the warehouse.

Silently, I begged and pleaded with anyone out there who might be listening for this to stop, but it never happened as I got closer and closer to my destination.

I was just outside the warehouse, not ten feet from the door when that smell hit me.

Burnt flesh.

I had only smelt it once in my life, but that scent would forever haunt me for years to come.

It had sent my mind reeling so fast that I raced into the building, not even bothering to consider that I might be running into a trap.

And the scene I came upon only made the sick feeling in my stomach even worse as I gazed at the lifeless eyes of Rat, Thorn, and Ghost and the unmoving forms of all my other friends. From there I only proceeded to scream so loudly that I didn't even hear when someone shot me with a tranquilizer dart until I felt it as I collapsed onto the floor.

 _Not again. Not again. Please, no, it can't happen again._

When I woke up again, I found myself as well as the others who remained strung up with chains, our hands bound about our head. I could hear _his_ dreadful humming, singing the song _Pop Goes the Weasel_ in a way that made me nauseous.

Mariposa was before him now, eyes wild and streaming tears as the shadowed man cut away at her like he had with me. Strip by strip, he tore his way through he, as I watched. I could hear the others waking near me, but I couldn't look away, feeling sick to my stomach. It was with some relief to me that the man finally pronounced her dead as he held her heart in his hand; she was no longer a subject to his torment.

And then he turned and his eyes met mine.

"Well lookie here, Precious is awake," he giggled, and I could just barely make out an insane smile on his features. But that was all. I had never managed to see his face before, no matter the lighting.

"You know no one has ever survive my work before. No they haven't little Precious," he told me with a proud look in his eyes like I was his greatest work ever. "Precious must be strong if she meets the Doctor again. What a privilege!" He cackled, sending chills down my spine as he then turned his attention to my friends. "Now which of these pretties should I choose next? Would Precious like to choose for the Doctor?"

I was too mute with horror to respond, so the man just shrugged, striping off his latex gloves to put on new ones. "Oh well…maybe the pretty little fox before I move onto the big guy."

"No! Stop! Please leave them alone!" I finally managed to scream, tears streaming down my face, eyes unable to look away from the horrific sight of Mariposa's bloodied body.

"Oh so the little bird can sing? Don't worry, the Doctor will finish with you after he treats your friends. He wants to make them all~ better."

And I was left to watch as he heaved a semi-conscious Foxfire onto the table, carelessly pushing Mariposa's off of it, and tying her down. Once again I found myself watching as my friend was openly dissected before me by that monster. And when he was done and Fox was silently begging for death, he slit her throat with the scalpel, vying for her larynx. But all I was Fox's green eyes staring at me, begging me to do something.

"Oh this one was no good, it couldn't even speak," he complained when she was finally dead. "Maybe the big man will be more enjoyable."

Silently, I mouthed the word 'no' over and over again as he went for Kale but no sound came out.

The man must have noticed because he shot me another insane smile. "Oh does little Precious want to help? She can if she wants, but methinks she likes the show considering she's been free the whole time."

 _What?_

Just like last time, I realized that he was right, that I was uncuffed from the shackles, and I had only been holding onto the chain so tightly that I had thought I was bound. Immediately, upon realizing that, I let go and fell to my feet. But why didn't I move? Why didn't I get up and save Kale as he looked at me with pleading eyes? Why did I just sit there and watch then all die?

I could hear my mother's voice whispering in my ear all the unkind things she had been saying to me since I was a child as well as the many other things people had told me over the years.

" _Weak…_ "

" _Worthless…_ "

" _Waste of space…_ "

" _Unworthy…_ "

" _Completely useless…_ "

" _Reject…_ "

" _Demon…_ "

" _Satanic herald…_ "

" _Monster…_ "

" _Evil…_ "

" _Wherever she goes, death surely follows…_ "

And I just continued to sit there, rooted in place by my fear as my friend was slowly killed.

They were all right. How could I save Optimus when I couldn't even save those closest to me?

Raoul…

Rat…

Mariposa…

Ghost…

Foxfire…

Thorn…

Azriel….

…and once again Cobra.

How could I save anyone if I couldn't save them? …If I couldn't save myself? Would Optimus end up dying if I tried to help him too? Would Izzy, the kids, June, Fowler, the Autobot's and everyone else I was close to die because of me?

And then Cobra's pleading reached my ears, speaking words I had never heard until today. His last words…

"Phoenix…run…you have to…run…please…I can't lose my best friend…Phoenix _run_ …"

 _Friend?_ Even though I just stood there and watched, I was still his _friend_?

Then I remembered why I had become the Dark Phoenix. It hadn't been for myself but my friends, so that I could protect them when the time came…so that I could be their shield from the pain of the world.

Strength and feeling returned to my limbs. The next thing I knew; I was standing over the horrible man, no _monster_ , who had taken everything from me, holding a knife to his throat. Inside, I burned with an anger and fury almost intense as the burning bird I had been nicknamed after. I wanted to do it. I wanted to kill him, make him pay for what he had done.

So why didn't I?

If I now held the power in this situation, why didn't I end it all with one simple stroke?

Because I didn't want to stoop to his level. I wasn't this miserable excuse for a human. Yes, we all make sacrifices for the things we love, the people we care about. But when the stakes are this high, who can we trust? What will that power do to anyone who had it?

For me, I know it would never be anything good, despite my intentions.

So, taking a deep breath, I raised the knife and stabbed it…into the soft patch of moss that grew near the man's left ear.

I wasn't him.

Smiling a little at my revelation, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, head tilted back so that my face was aimed at the ceiling. I could hear the sirens in the distance, wailing as the headed towards our location. In reality, I knew that the authorities had arrived too late, finding only the bodies of six kids, one half-catatonic girl, and the murderer long gone.

* * *

I opened my eyes and found myself standing in the middle of the trial chamber; the same exact position I had been in when the vision/memory had begun. Had it all been in my head? I would have assumed that conclusion too had it not been for the wetness on my cheeks. Seriously, I doubt that I have ever been so emotionally drained in my life than at that moment. But that feeling wasn't all that bad. My mind was clearer, and I felt almost lighter than I had been for years, like I had just molted an old, uncomfortable layer of skin and was thus renewed somehow.

And I was in a way. Renewed, I mean. I had been carrying around that guilt so long that it had eventually become just another stone in the impassable walls I had built around myself to protect me from getting hurt again.

Enter Optimus Prime with demolition equipment and wise words to soothe the pain.

Primus, when I got him back, I was going to freaking kiss him as a thank you for all he had done for me. He really was a knight in shining armor.

Smiling softly, I walked forward towards the now open door on the opposite side of the room, entering a hallway that was even shorter than the last few I had been in, and walking until I was standing before one final inscribed door.

And it read like this:

 _ **O seeker of the power and collective wisdom of the Primes**_

 _ **For what you have endured and overcome**_

 _ **You have proven to share qualities all leaders have:**_

 _ **Decisive judgement to make decisions in a sound and timely manner.**_

 _ **Faithful and trusting of your allies so that they may help guide you on your way.**_

 _ **Cooperative and tactful in your leadership, using teamwork to accomplish tasks.**_

 _ **Intelligent and wise to keep a clear, calm mind under great duress.**_

 _ **Selflessness and moral fiber that puts others before your own needs and well-being.**_

 _ **Humility and strength to do what others cannot and know when you are beat.**_

 _ **And finally,**_

 _ **Courage beyond compare to stand in the face of your greatest fears and move forward despite it all.**_

 _ **O, seeker**_

 _ **Know that we have judged**_

 _ **And have deemed you worthy of our power and knowledge.**_

 _ **Beyond this door lies what you seek**_

 _ **Now step forward**_

 _ **Disciple of Primus.**_

All I could think as I as I raised up the key card to gain entrance before walking through the doors was one thing: _Finally_.

* * *

—Orion Pax's POV—

"Orion! Have you made progress with Project Iacon?" Megatron enquired.

"It seems I am a bit rustier than I thought," Orion fibbed, turning to face the mech.

Megatron regarded him with a knowing look. "Might that have anything to do with the nature of your after-hours research?" he questioned imperiously, walking over to the console and pressing a button that brought up what he had been secretly looking into earlier. "Did I fail to mention that we will be tracking your activities?"

Orion winced a little; he had hoped that no one had noticed him breaking the encryptions on the Decepticons' historical data archives. Of course, he should have known better considering this was Megatronus he was trying to fool.

"Why does history portray me siding with the Autobot aggressors? And why did Starscream call me a Prime? I must know! Who am I?" he burst out, optics pleading.

"You are my clerk," Megatron intoned without much emotion, though there was still a dangerous edge to his voice. "Now get back to work and decode that database."

Orion didn't need to hear the disembodied femme's voice hissing in his audial to know that this wasn't right. So shaking his helm, Orion mustered all his courage and defiantly said, "No. I would rather erase my findings than make them available for your questionable use." And then he pressed a single button, deleting all data.

However, his little act or rebellion did not go as planned. Attempting to walk away, he heard the grey mech chuckle lowly behind him, causing Orion to glance back at him. He really didn't like the look of amusement in the mech's red optics.

Baring his sharp denta in a mocking grin, the gladiator merely pressed a single button on the console and once again the screen was filled with data. Data which Orion had just erased only a couple nano-kliks ago.

"Did you really think that we wouldn't be tracking _and_ documenting every iota of your invaluable research?" Megatron sneered upon seeing the astonishment on Orion's faceplates.

 _Slaggit_ , Orion mentally cursed, realizing he had been outwitted.

All of a sudden though, their little standoff was interrupted as the doors to the room slid open and admitted the ever-silent communications officer, Soundwave. His screen-like visor was displaying an image of their home world, Cybertron, with one of the areas highlighted and a bunch of other data surrounding the image.

Yet, Megatron seemed to understand as he said in surprise, "One of our sentries was activated? On Cybertron?"

Upon hearing the last two words, Orion immediately turned his accusatory blue gaze on his now former friend. "You told me our planet was dead."

"That is beside the point," the warlord snapped quickly. "Guards!" Several of the Decepticon look-alike soldiers rushed in as the ex-gladiator then turned his attention back to Orion. There was now no trace of any of the warmth Orion had once seen in the mech's optics as he advanced on the data archivist, subspacing one of his wrist blades and pointing it at him, voice reaching dangerous levels as he growled, "You will finish Project Iacon by the time I return or I will carve out your Spark before your very eyes!"

* * *

—Aria's POV—

I had made it. I was finally here.

Standing in a humongous—even by cybertronian standards—circular chamber, I felt very accomplished, staring at the room which held a vague sense of familiarity. It felt like something out of a dream, and I guess it was since I recognized it as the place I had seen in my dreams.

Domed ceiling stretching as high as possible with old cybertronian glyphs and designs decorating the place, the round room had multiple arches ringing it. I was currently standing on a dimly lit catwalk of some sort that led toward the center of the chamber where a single round platform was, suspended over a deep chasm that glowed a soft baby blue. On the opposite side of the room, I could even see another door and catwalk, confirming what I had suspected before about that one blocked passage I had seen before starting the trials; I guess maybe that was my way out then.

Anyways, walking towards the center of it all and around to the other side, I could practically feel just how old and powerful this place was, full of ancient knowledge and wisdom. It just—I can't really describe in words the impression of how intensely powerful this place was. That feeling of facing something much older, wiser, and stronger than you just oozed of the walls, practically crushing those deemed unworthy with the overwhelming pressure of its presence. Does any of that make sense?

In any case though, while this sacred place was overwhelming, I didn't feel its effects as much as I thought I would. I felt more honored if anything.

"Hey guys?" I called, pressing the button on my communications link. "I'm not sure if you can hear me, but I thought you should know: I'm in."

My friends on the other end cheered, Miko's exclamation of "Suh-weet!" being the loudest among them.

Nearing the middle of the round platform where there was a design much like the keycard, I at last set the device down on it where an odd squarish/octagonal outline had lit up when I approached. Like those little pill things you put in water for a bit and eventually turn into sponge cutouts of animals, the reaction was near immediate as the keycard shone brighter than ever for a moment before shifting and starting to grow in size. Even the entire chamber seemed to react as the area of the platform I stood on began to pull back and all the glyphs and designs started to glow.

Stepping back to a stable, nonmoving area, I watched the process that was both beautiful and awe-inspiring.

The data-dock—as I'm gonna dub the thing where I had just placed the keycard—had then slowly begun to rise until it was standing completely vertical as the circular floor then too began to change, shifting in complex patterns and opening up so that whatever was below the platform could rise.

Then suddenly my eyes were assaulted by a nearly blinding light, that—if I had believed in God and heaven—I would have mistaken for the pure power of a deity.

When my eyes finally began to adjust though, my mouth fell open in shocked awe.

 _This is just…_ "Wow," I whispered quietly.

Glowing with an otherworldly, white-blue light, a huge circular thing had risen from below. It was some kind of energy sphere I think with these three large, ornate rings twisting and gyrating around it. Higher and higher, the thing rose up until it hovered there in the air, bathing the entire chamber in holy light.

So this was the power of Vector Sigma?

Speaking of which, I glanced at the data-dock and keycard. The entire thing was now lit up with veins of light-blue as a soft humming filled the air.

"Commencing download." _I think_.

Quietly, I sighed, glad to finally have made it but eager to get out of here so I could complete my mission.

 _Soon, Optimus._

* * *

—Orion Pax's POV—

Knowing he was next to useless in a fight, Orion had conceded to Megatron's will, all the while trying to figure a way out of this situation.

"No one told you to stop, Pax," one of the guards growled, subspacing a gun and pointing it at the archivist threateningly.

However, the sweet bot had had enough of being pushed around. Sure, he was not much of a fighter physically but maybe he could use his words instead. Alpha Trion had always said that he had a way with words…once you got past all his stuttering and tangents. "I believe Megatron intends to use whatever he finds on Project Iacon to harm the Autobots. Please. We can warn them," he said, approaching both of the mech before him, who had their blasters trained on him.

Yet, he expect the kind of reaction he got.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

Hissing in aggravation after several minutes of waiting, Aria stomped her booted foot a little in aggravation. "This is taking a while."

-{ **Of course it is. We are talking about the collective wisdom of the Primes.** }- Ratchet told her calmly, though you could hear the nervous impatience in his voice too.

The blood fighter huffed at that but didn't comment. And then she heard an odd sound, like little metal legs scuttling about. But then it got quiet and Aria dismissed it…until a second later when it sounded like a choir of small electric saws had powered up somewhere above her.

And then she saw them. Hundreds upon hundreds of these little metallic creatures with large heads, tiny bodies, razor-sharp teeth, and purple optics were flying straight towards her and the Vector Sigma data terminal that housed the keycard, mouths open and ready to for a meal.

"Holy mother—!"

-{ **What is it, Aria?** }-

Despite never having actually seen them before, Aria had heard these things described plenty of times thanks to both her dreams and the bot's. However, she never thought she would actually encounter them in person. It just went to show that Primus really had a twisted sense of humor.

"Scraplets!"

She could hear the others reacting to the news but there was not time to think on that as she watched the army of vermin start eating away at the Vector Sigma terminal. In her mind, she was cursing away in every language she knew as she tried to pull the little monsters away but to little effect. There was just too many and she didn't even have a weapon anymore.

 _Shit! Shit! Shit! Dammit! What am I going to do!_

Eventually, one of the scraplets seemed to get fed up with her actions and took a snap at her hand, causing her to cry out in surprise and pain.

"Argh! One of the freaking mongrel's just bit me!" she howled in a rage, recoiling and glaring at the vermin anew.

-{ **Why did it have to be scraplets?!** }- she heard Bulkhead complain as she cradled her hand.

-{ **If they chew through Vector Sigma before the Matrix fully reloads—** }-

And then a new, much worse voice entered the conversation. -{ **So Vector Sigma** _ **is**_ **more than legend.** }- It was Megatron.

In her head, Aria's cursing escalated. _Just fuck my life already! Fuck all our lives!_

-{ **You Autobots have gone to impressive lengths to recover your Leader. Be assured, I shall never underestimate you again. Now I assume the one called Ironhide will be stepping through that portal with the reloaded Matrix of Leadership in hand.** }-

-{ **We hold the Space-bridge at all costs!** }- Ratchet commanded before Aria could give the order.

Well at least they were on the same wavelength in that regards as she turned back to her current situation.

 _Primus I need a long, long vacation after this_ , she thought before once more jumping into the fray.

* * *

It was no use! For every single scraplet I managed to smash underfoot, three more seemed to take its place!

"Oh no-no-no-no, don't you dare quit now on me!" I frantically told the device that was transferring all the knowledge to the keycard. Thanks to the scraplets, the flashing blue lights had been getting slower and slower, much to my increasing fear.

However, hope blossomed anew when I heard the rumble of what I assumed to be an engine from behind me, just beyond the door that would hopefully be my exit.

"Ironhide?" I wondered aloud, hoping beyond hope that it was him as the dark shape neared. I guess he had managed to break through that pile of rubble blocking the way after all.

But when the figure entered the light, I realize with mounting horror that it wasn't the weapon's specialist but his most recent opponent, the insecticon.

Slightly worried about Ironhide, I could do little but stand there as the huge insecticon zipped into the chamber, flying high, before transforming and allowing gravity to take over as it landed with a heavy crash that shook the entire platform.

Despite the fear, I growled lowly at the approaching metal alien, grey eyes narrowed and stormy as I glared. Thanks to the day I had had here, I was most definitely beyond my breaking point and I was fucking pissed. Call it stupidity, arrogance, bravery or whatever, but I marched forward, assumed a challenging posture and shouted fiercely, "Back off, bug!"

It didn't obviously, mandibles clicking in a show of amusement almost, much to my rage as it proceeded to kick me away.

Oxygen leaving me in a burst from the force of the kick, I felt as my back collided with the data terminal before I was overwhelmed by pain like I had just stuck my finger in a live electric socket. Everything, my entire body from the marrow of my bones to the ends of my hair, hurt with indescribable pain as I screamed like never before. The agony was all I could think of even as I fell into a heap on the ground, no longer touching data terminal as I twitched violently.

 _Note to self: don't touch Vector Sigma when it's downloading data to the Matrix_ , I managed to think with a semi-clear mind after what could have either seconds or hours. Groaning, I shakily got to my feet, my _everything_ still hurting. _What the frag?_

I glanced up at the insecticon, wondering why I hadn't killed me yet but found it looking something behind me, hesitant.

 _The scraplets._

Lips curving into a wicked grin that would have had a lesser man quaking in his boots and pissing his pants, I reached behind me—careful not to touch the device again—despite my sore limbs and wrenched a pair of bugs off of the device with one hand. "Hey, guys!" I shouted before throwing the still chattering little imps right at the insecticon. "The main course!"

And like magic, it took all of two seconds for the entire army of scraplets to turn from their current meal and dive on the now screeching insecticon. After that, it was all downhill from there as the little freaks began to eat away at the giant metal bug, and said bug fruitlessly tried to fight them off, only to stumble and fall off the catwalk to who knew where.

I released a shaky breath. _Ow, ow, ow! Primus I hurt all over!_

At the same time, a tone went off from behind me, and I looked to find that the keycard had finished downloading everything as the light sphere sunk below once more, and the data terminal lowered back to its original position once the circular platform had returned to normal.

Immediately, I dashed over to the keycard, which was now glowing a solid white, scooping it up before heading back down the catwalk towards the doors the insecticon had entered through. I really didn't want to have another encounter with something much larger with me unless it was Ironhide.

Speaking of which, I really hoped he was okay because I don't think I could manage to drag his aft all the way to the space-bridge portal this time if he was unconscious. Again. The last time had been a onetime deal only.

Thankfully though, as if to answer my prayers, I once again heard the sound of an engine. But this time, I knew it was Ironhide as he drove up and transformed before me. And aside from a few new dents, scuffs, and some chipped paint and dust, he wasn't as bad as I thought he would have been.

Anyways, I didn't bother with a greeting, jumping straight to the point as soon as he focused his attention on me.

"I have the Matrix," I immediately said, showing the glowing keycard to the mech.

He grinned and nodded approvingly. "Let's roll fem."

* * *

—Orion Pax's POV—

Metal screeching, Orion groaned a little from his new position of the floor. One of the guards had actually hit him (several times in fact) and for no reason at all, except to have the "privilege to stomp a former leader of the Autobots."

"No, please stop," he pleaded. Why didn't they understand? They were just like the bullied he had encountered once during his schooling years, always enjoying the suffering of others.

And just like those bullies, these two did not heed his request to stop.

"Enough!" he shouted, now righteous anger coursing through him. And all of a sudden he found his servos transforming into a pair of high quality blasters. "I'm—I'm armed?" he said in surprise, completely dumbfounded by this revelation.

Glancing at the two before him, Orion decided to press his advantage when they tried to hurt them again, somehow miraculously finding the trigger for the guns and leaving the two as smoking heaps on the floor.

Despite not knowing if the parts about being a Prime or the leader of the Autobots was true, he did know that he needed to get to the Autobots and warn them, maybe even help them if he could.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

"We're almost there," I stated once we were long out of Kaon and had the space-bridge portal in sight.

"Ratchet, we have the Matrix," I heard the mech radio the others. "We're coming through."

Yet there was no response.

Stopping only a couple yards away from the vortex, Ironhide let me out so that he could transform to his bipedal mode again, both of us exchanging uneasy looks. "Ratchet?" he tried again to no avail. "Something's wrong."

On a normal day, I would have probably called him out on being captain obvious at this point and he likely would have retorted with a lieutenant sarcasm quip, but today had been anything but normal. So if he others weren't responding, something must have happened; both of us just looked on at the green vortex.

Eventually though, I spoke, "Ironhide, can we possibly knuckle through this?"

His hard blue optics shifted to me while I gazed ahead. "Whatcha have in mind, fem?"

Biting my lip, I quickly outlined the plan, the mech nodding every once in a while. He liked the idea about as much as I did, which is to say not at all, but it was our only option at this point, and both of us were willing to take the chance.

Eventually he said, "Then see you on the other side Squishy."

I smirked. "You too Rust-Bucket."

He nodded before priming his cannons and charging through while I was left to silently count away half minute. However, the wait, while admittedly short, felt agonizingly long as I tried to prepare myself for the undoubtedly chaotic scene I was about to step onto.

Still, when I did go through, I was met with the sight of Ironhide valiantly holding back Megaton while a very familiar bot also stood on the field.

Op– no, _Orion Pax_ shifted his gaze to my small form, optics widening slightly in recognition when I removed my helmet and held up the glowing keycard from him to see.

"Are you… _certain_ I am worthy?" he asked timidly in the same yet different voice of Optimus when we were standing only a couple meters from each other. (Well kneeling in his case). I was so close now.

I smiled, a true expression of emotion that I had, up until now, only graced Izzy with. But if anyone deserved to see beyond the mask of emotions and lies, it was the bot before me. "You have no idea," was all I said, unable to convey in words just how truly damn freaking, _beyond_ worthy he was.

He nodded, like he was accepting his fate as I raised the keycard higher.

All the other sounds except our conversation seemed to have been muted and turned into background noise.

"Will you still be here?" he then asked me a little unsurely as the keycard began to glow bright and his chassis reacted. "Even when…even when I am not _me_ anymore?"

He was so sweet and innocent, cute even; I really wished I could have gotten to know Orion Pax under better circumstances. In any case, I nodded, still smiling but a little sad to see Orion go. "I promise Orion," I told the bot as he faded before the knowledge of the Primes, giving way to someone I knew quite well and missed dearly. "Always and forever, so long as you will have me."

One last time, Orion returned the smile before I had to look away when the light became too intense. Then, there was a loud metallic shifting, a clash of metal, and I found myself watching as Optimus Prime returned in time to catch Megatron's incoming blade.

"Megatron," he rumbled, fully activating his battlemask as he drew back a fist. "Be gone!" and then he sent the warlord stumbling backwards, landing blow after decisive blow. It was truly a spectacular sight when he managed to send the Decepticon leader flying straight into an earthen pillar.

"Ratchet! How did we arrive here?" I heard him ask as they all stood together, united against their common foe.

"Long story, old friend."

I smiled.

He was back.

Optimus was back.

With little else to do, I took my cue from Ironhide and ran straight for a newly opened ground-bridge, hearing the other bot's following close behind as I heard my guardian shout, "Autobots, fall back!"

He was back, and my heart felt at ease once more.

* * *

Arriving back on base, I was immediately tackled in a hug by Jack. Everyone, especially June, looked relieved that I was safe, aforementioned woman's eyes looking a little red and glistening slightly too.

"Sorry about any damage done to the suit," I apologized to Fowler as I handed the helmet to him, referring to the numerous tears, burnt and singed parts as well as the single blood stain on the hand that had gotten bitten by a scraplet.

"It's alright," he said with a smile. "Any damage done was worth it if it helped to get you home safe and in one piece ma'am."

I chuckled lowly, already starting to wriggle out of the outfit since it was getting a little too warm. "Good, cuz I don't think I could even afford one square inch of what this thing was made of."

We all laughed at that before turning our attention on the returning bot, my guardian being the last one to step through. Not for the first time, I worried if he would remember me or not. Vector Sigma might have restored Optimus' knowledge of the Primes, but what about his more personal memories? Would he have forgotten me?

Anyways, Rafael was the first to approach the big red and royal blue bot, calling hesitantly, "Optimus?"

The Prime turned to the little boy and…smiled, saying, "Hello, Rafael."

At the words, I think just about everyone let out a sigh of relief at that before the kids started cheering, resident wild child being the loudest and most obnoxious of all.

"The Big Guy remembers us! Woo-hoo!"

Then he glanced at the Decepticon insignia on his shoulder, frowning a little. "Although it seems there is much I do not remember."

However, Ratchet didn't let the mech darken the mood, saying spiritedly, "Optimus, it has truly been our darkest hour. But know this: From every indication, your Spark never ceased being that of an Autobot."

 _And I doubt he ever would_ , I thought with a small yawn. My entire face felt like it was drooping like a basset hound's with exhaustion as I tried fruitlessly to rub the sleep away, only to yawn again. _Damn fuck, I need a nap._

I think I did get my wish because after I sat down on the stairs, head leaning against the railing, I closed my eyes for what felt like only a second. However, when I opened them again, the base was silent, and I was only half awake as I listened to familiar pair of voices talking.

"Let her rest, Optimus. She, of all beings, deserves it if you ask me."

I closed my eyes again, head resting against the cool metal railing once more as I sunk back into a blissfully dreamless oblivion.

* * *

—Optimus Prime's POV—

"Let her rest, Optimus. She, of all beings, deserves it if you ask me," Ratchet told Optimus when he tried to rouse his charge but to no avail. Everyone else had already gone home or to their berthrooms to recharge after having a small celebration that he was forced to sit through. However, Aria had been surprisingly absent from the festivities until Jack had located her sitting on the staircase to one of the raised platforms and fast asleep to everyone's amusement. They had all left her be though—even if Miko tried to draw something on her face with a marker until Bulkhead had distracted her—as they all took it as a sign to go home and have an official celebration some other time.

Anyways, Optimus had tried to wake her so that he could take Aria home, but the unresponsive girl was dead to the world, sound asleep.

Optimus shot the medic a questioning look.

"She has been working almost around the clock to try and get you back," Ratchet explained, a fond look on his faceplates as he glanced at the sleeping girl. "While you were…missing, Aria took charge of our team, keeping us together as we tried to look for you and giving us hope and advice when we needed it the most, even if it was to yell at us to stop acting like fools." The medic chuckled a little at that before pausing a bit when a thought occurred to him. "You know she sort of acted like you, in the regard that she was the glue that kept our team from falling apart."

Optimus was surprised to hear that but pleased all the same.

Ratchet glanced in the femme's direction—though she was still sitting on the staircase, eyes closed in sleep—before saying quietly, "Anyways, you better just take her home now. She'll probably wake up when you get there."

Optimus nodded, transforming down into his alternative mode and allowing Ratchet to set her in the shotgun seat where he then slid the seatbelt over her to keep her safe before rolling out of base.

Now that most of his memories had returned to him (with the help of the other jogging his memory), Optimus recalled that he had had some last, big revelation before he had reverted to his pre-Prime state. He knew it had been important and had involved Aria, but he could for the life of him remember. What had it been?

He adjusted his inner mirror to get a better look at the human femme, feeling his spark soften at how peaceful she looked. She was wearing her normal clothes, having removed her borrowed space suit, and her hair was braided once again in a messy fashion. Some of the golden strands had fallen in her face, causing her nose to twitch occasionally as she slept. She just looked so beautiful and relaxed in this state. It was difficult to believe that she had been risking her life for his mere hours ago, though the bandage on her hand reminded him otherwise.

He winced a little at the thought. Honestly, how could he have done that? Why did he have to put her in danger like that?

 _Because you trust her_ , a voice whispered in his audial.

Mentally, he shook his helm. Even if she had survived, it didn't make him regret his actions any less. Optimus was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't even realize that he had stopped before Aria's mechanics garage until he heard his axel's squeak a little as he came to a stop.

"Aria, we have arrived," he said gently to his snoozing passenger. However, the girl did not even seem to hear him, let alone when feel he jostled the seat a little to try and rouse her. She just merely made a discontented sound and shifted a little, like she was trying to burrow further into his seat. Had he been in his bipedal mode, he surely would have smiled at her and her familiar stubbornness.

"Aria," he tried again, volume increasing, only to get the same results. "Little one, please get up. You need to rest in your own berth."

"Noooo…don' wanna," she refuted sleepily, left hand twitching like she was trying to swat something. Her words were slurred, and her eyes remained closed. "Too…com…fy…" Her breathing slowed again, evening out, and he knew that she had drifted back to sleep again. Mentally rolling his optics, Optimus vented in fond exasperation.

 _Silly femme_.

Shivering a little, the girl shifted some more, likely trying to find more warmth but ending up accidentally letting her notebook slip from her already slack grip in the process.

"Aria"—

Then he caught sight of the now open sketchbook, which revealed a very life-like image of the city of Iacon long before the war had ravaged it. A scene Aria should not have known about unless someone told her. However, before he could look closer into it, there was a drowsy moan from Aria as she began to unfurl her body from its previous position. She yawned widely, once again reminding him of a sleepy cyber-cat as she stretched, absentmindedly scooping up the fallen book with one hand and closing it. Grey eyes slightly clouded with the fog of sleep, she looked around blearily.

"Optimus where"—she yawned hugely again before continuing—"are we?"

Brushing off his previous confusion at seeing the image, he chuckled a little, shaking his cabin a little. "Just outside your shop, little one. I did not wish to wake you to see if you wanted to stay at base as Ratchet has informed me you have been doing for the past couple of weeks, or go home, so I merely assumed. I hope you do not mind."

The golden-haired girl's lips quirked upwards in a fraction of a smile before it was interrupted by another yawn and lackadaisical stretch. She looked utterly adorable in his opinion. "Sweet of you," she mumbled, rubbing her face a little.

"Go on Aria," he encouraged softly with a gentle smile in his voice as his passenger side door popped open. "Get some rest. I dare say you need it."

Gathering up her things, the girl made to step out. "Thanks Optimus," she said, and he realized that she was actually smiling a genuine smile. It was an occurrence that was as rare as a diamond to him, and just as precious.

"It is I who should be thanking you, sweetspark," he said before internally cringing a little at letting the endearment slip. He hoped she didn't notice enough to comment.

Thankfully, the girl merely nodded. "Let's just call it even okay, Sangroyal?"

He chuckled softly once more, amused. "Very well. Good night, Aria. Have a pleasant recharge."

"You too Prime," she replied, stepping out. However, just before she closed the door, Aria paused before imparting one final thing to him for the night. "Oh and Optimus?"

"Yes, Aria?"

She smiled. "I'm really glad that you're back."

Then she stepped away, placing a feather-light kiss on his alt-mode's bonnet as she went before turning and entering the darkened depths of her mechanic's shop.

Processor frozen in shock, Optimus did not move from his position until he saw a light flick on in one of the upstairs windows. He barely even registered how heated his frame had become as his cooling fans kicked on. And when he returned to base, he felt oddly light, falling into a peaceful recharge with a smile on his faceplates as soon as he laid down in his berth.

* * *

And that's a wrap folks! Sorry if you wanted more, but that's all I can managed for now. Maybe later when I don't have a headache from doing nothing but staring at a screen all day, eh?

Please favorite, review, follow and vote on my polls. I plan on changing them every week or so, and the next one is going to be a Transformer related one. Remember, the **Five Review Policy** is in effect.

G'night/morning!


	35. Once More into the Fray

Hello! Hullo! The first update of 2019! Wow!

I'd also like to give a big shout out and thank you to **LoyalBlackWolf** , **RevlisFlow159** , **Midna the Pokemon** , **AishaDream** , **Sakura9544** , **b. marr** , **Guest (1)** , **RebelRatchet** , **BarrelRacer1205** , **Cinematronix** , **Steelcode** , **bajy** , **Da Hero** , **Snowcloak** , **Wildwolf** , **Sfrizz5959** , **kpetukhova24** , **Cheese** , **Guest (2)** , **Shiro** and those who followed and favorited myself and this story.

And congrats to **Cinematronix** for being my 250th reviewer!

Lastly, to my reviewer **Snowcloak** : Hon, let me just sum up everything I want to say to you in two words: _Thank you!_ Seriously, I was having a really slaggy day when you reviewed. But when I read the detailed message you had written…Gods of Olympus! Really hon, if I have a talent for writing as you claim then I think you do too because you really made my day! …Okay, that or you're good with people, but you get my point. So, thanks a million for brightening my day with your words and taking the time to review. It really means a lot. Thank you. :D 3

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers Prime or any other recognizable works.

* * *

 **Chapter 35: Once More into the Fray**

 _Once more into the fray…_

 _Into the last good fight I'll ever know._

 _Live and die on this day…_

 _Live and die on this day…_

—The Grey

-{ **So Orion's doing better now? They're letting you see him again?** }- my sister Isabelle asked one afternoon, a week or two after Optimus had returned.

"Yeah, he's much better," I said, fiddling with a wrench as I waited for the computer to finish running a diagnostic on the red car before me. It was an old 1967 Ferrari 275 GTB. Of course, it wasn't that old, considering it was in near mint condition and still worked for the most part despite the fact that it was a couple decades old and had not been used in a while.

-{ **Good. And he's taking it easy, right?** }-

I gave a derisive snort just as the computer signaled it was done. "Define 'taking it easy'."

I could just imagine the frustrated look on Izzy's face now as she grumbled about people being stupid. She absolutely hated it when people didn't take care of themselves.

 _She and Ratchet would get along famously_ , I mentally mused.

-{ **Well, he better be okay by December.** }-

I raised a brow, though she couldn't see it as I finally located a problem with the brake system. "December? Why December?"

-{ **Duh, silly big sister. I want to meet him. You are still visiting me for winter break right?** }-

Taken by surprise, I choked a little on some spittle. "I– oh– uh– yeah."

-{ **Well bring him with you then!** }-

Truth be told, I had never really considered introducing my baby sister to any of the Autobots. They didn't even know she existed for Primus' sake, and she wanted to be introduced?!

"I—"

-{ **Please, 'ria?** }- the little girl on the other end begged, drawing out the vowel sound in the word 'please'. I could just see her now, wearing her puppy-dog eyes that almost always made me cave. -{ **I'll keep up my grades.** }-

"Izzy, you always have good grades," I pointed out before sighing. "I'll think about it. Okay?"

-{ **Thank you!** }-

"I said I'll think about it Isabelle. Now go do your homework and read another book or something."

-{ **Okay, big sis! I love you.** }-

"Yeah, love you too, little nurse."

Bidding her goodbye and signing off, I allowed my shoulders to slump as I heaved another sigh, pausing in my work as I did so. It's not that I didn't trust the bot's, because I most definitely did as I had been calling them my friends for who knew how long. It's just…I don't know. Maybe I was just hesitant because I didn't know how to break it to them. After all, it's not every day you find out someone you know has a sister they never told you about. Plus, there was the fact that I would have to tell them the truth about my parents…

Huffing a little as I shook my head, I went back to work on the car.

It was bad enough MECH was suddenly more active. Just the other day, Silas had contacted me to confirm that he had managed to locate Starscream after I had sent the seeker's last known coordinates and suspected location to them. (And this was all during the whole fiasco with my guardian getting memory loss, mind you). I almost felt kind of bad for the rogue Decepticon since I had been the one to sic the hounds of hell on him, but something told me I should be a lot more worried for what they had in store for the Autobot's, especially if MECH had been willing to wait in regards to dealing to dealing with the seeker instead immediately of ripping him up for spare parts like I had hoped.

They were planning something. Something which would not bode well for any of us.

Hopefully, whatever was coming though, we could handle it…or so I hoped.

* * *

—Later—

Once again, I found myself relaxing at base after another hard day's work. After my phone call with Izzy, there had been an accident nearby and all the cars involved had then had to be towed to my mechanic's shop to be fixed. Thankfully, the damage had been relatively minor (both to the cars and humans), but I had been stuck working several hours straight trying to assess the damage and see what could be fixed now and what would have to be repaired later once I got the parts I needed to do so. It was safe to say between work, school, and my other activities; I was going to be pretty busy this week.

Ironically, the other kids were there too as they had just managed to find free time to come to base and were now listening to Bee narrate his latest mission with Raf, Arcee, and Bulkhead translating. Apparently, the Autobots had managed to grab some sort of relic that the Decepticon's had uncovered. Still, even as I worked on a digital report for my psychology class, I couldn't help but snort softly and shake my head at the yellow mech's antics as he made wild gestures. His youthfulness really reminded me of Isabelle sometimes.

Sighing, I finished the sentence I was typing and pressed the save button, figuring I had gotten far enough on this essay for today. My brain already hurt enough from just thinking about all the itty bitty parts of the human brain as well as their functions and locations…yahdda yahdda yahdda…major headache…you get the point.

Figuring that I might as well take a break and see what Optimus, Ratchet and Ironhide were up to since listening to a play-by-play from Bumblebee didn't really pique my interest, I walked over, sparing a curious glance for the disc-shaped device they were inspecting. Now, I was not as clingy when Optimus had fallen victim to the cybonic plague, but I was still admittedly cautious when it came to the safety of my guardian.

"Here," the medic was saying, zooming in closer on a particular area of the scan they had taken of the device. It showed a little Autobot insignia that faded in and out from view on the screen like it was hidden deep within the device or something. "The source of the ancient frequency we detected."

"An Iacon homing beacon," Optimus said, regarding the little device with a troubled look in his optics, though I barely noticed since I was staring at the device with some surprise as well.

"What's an Autobot locator doing on that?" Arcee questioned with something almost akin to…apprehension in her voice as she regarded the object with equal measure as she and the other two joined four of us. It made me wonder what the device was to earn such a reaction.

In any case, it was Ironhide who actually answered the femme. "The Class-A Decepticon weapons confiscated during the war were sealed within the vaults below Iacon."

"Where you once worked as an archivist?" I recalled, turning my attention to Optimus.

Optimus nodded at me, picking up where Ironhide left off. "Iacon was both a cultural center and a stronghold…which Megatron raided when Autobot troops were at their nadir. It stands to reason that in anticipation of Iacon being overrun by enemy forces, these weapons were jettisoned off-world to keep them far from Decepticon reach."

"Clearly, the beacon was added as a safety measure should the weapons ever be found by the undesired party," Ratchet added his two cents in.

"Well, thanks to our hot shot stunt driver, this one's going in our vault," Bulkhead smiled, slapping the bashful Bumblebee heartily on the spinal struts.

"Do you think this is the only intel you supplied to Megatron?" Arcee questioned Optimus to which I frowned, feeling more than a little on my guardian's behalf, though I didn't disagree.

Optimus however, just sighed. He didn't seem offended by the question, just accepting, defeated almost. "Arcee, you are right to ask," he admitted, "and I am afraid I…do not remember."

"Optimus. Megatron clearly took advantage of your amnesia, but for all we know, this spark extractor is the extent of it. Have you stopped to consider that he might have suggested otherwise merely to plague your thoughts?" Ratchet pointed out, much to my relief.

Unknown to the others (with the exclusion of Ratchet, Ironhide, and myself, of course), Optimus had been beating himself up repeatedly for helping Megatron during his whole memory loss mishap. We had all told him multiple times that it wasn't his fault, but the stubborn bot just would not listen. He seemed hell-bent on blaming himself for every little thing that went awry in regards to Megatron.

Honestly though, if you asked me, he needed a good slap upside the helm, which I was more than happy to provide…if it were physically possible for me that is. Whatever, size has never stopped me before, so I'd eventually find a way I was sure.

However, I didn't know that things were about to get a whole lot worse.

* * *

—Later, Nightfall—

It was getting close to seven o'clock at night when tragedy struck. I was still working on my laptop and the kids were keeping themselves occupied by playing video games since most of the bot's were out following another homing signal like the one that had lead them to the device Ironhide had later informed me was called the Spark Extractor.

However, it had only been thirty minutes before we receive a near-panicked call from Bulkhead and Bumblebee, the latter of whom had walked shakily through the ground bridge. And I could understand the yellow mech's dilemma quite well after Bulkhead had calmed enough to explain what had happened from his standpoint.

"You can fix Bee, can't you?" little Rafael Esquivel asked worriedly as Ratchet ran a scan of the scout.

"Bumblebee was hit pretty hard," he explained in what I suspected was the medic's most sugar-coated version of things. "The stun blasts may have fried his T-Cog."

"Is that like a T-bone?" Miko asked dumbly.

"Not exactly," Arcee answered. "It's the organ that allows us to scan vehicles and transform."

All of a sudden, there was a beeping sound and Ratchet gasped. "By the allspark. Bumblebee's T-Cog isn't damaged. It's missing."

If it were possible, I'm sure any and all color would have drained from all the present Autobots' features at the news, if the slack-jawed and wide opticed reactions he elicited were anything to go by. Hell! Even I knew that that really was not good at all.

 _But how? Why?_ I wondered, mind working a million miles per minute.

"But the Decepticons transform, too," Jack reasoned, mind apparently jumping to the most recent thorn in our side. "Why would they steal that?"

I shook my head at the words and locked gazes with Ironhide from across the room. We both had a pretty good idea who the guilty party actually was.

"Megatron may be known to raise zombies, but he's no ghoul," I was the first to speak, though unwilling to give anything away just yet. "Ratchet, was the job done on Bee professional."

The candy-cane colored mech shook his helm grimly. "No, though it did hint to someone who at least had idea of what they were doing and knew their way around basic cybertronian anatomy."

Again, my grey orbs flickered over to meet Ironhide's gaze from out of the corner of my eyes.

"If Megatron wasn't behind this, then who was?" little Raf asked, not understanding what I had been trying to get at.

"The ones who cannibalized Breakdown," Bulkhead said lowly.

"And tried to gut me," Arcee added, optics narrowed.

"MECH," the medic spat, unknowingly causing both myself and Ironhide to straighten a little. "And it would appear their knowledge of cybertronian biotech has grown more sophisticated."

Across the room, I locked gazes with Ironhide at the name, sharing a knowing look.

* * *

—Later, Training Room of Autobot Base—

Whirling through the motions of another bō staff drill in the seclusion of the training room, I could feel his optics on me. However, I kept my back to him and ignored the mech in favor of waiting until he decided to speak. I was not in the mood to play twenty questions after listening to what had transpired with Bumblebee and the others.

Finishing the first couple of drills, I was about to move through the next sequence of complex movements when he finally decided to open his mouth.

"Squishy, you need to tell them soon."

I huffed but didn't look at him. I kept my gaze on the far wall ahead of me, slashing and twirling the wooden staff through the air with all the grace and poise of a jungle cat.

"Aria."

Pausing in my training for a moment, I sighed, shoulders slumping a little. "And what would you have me say to them? 'Hey guys, I have secretly been dealing with MECH behind all of your backs, trying to take them down like some crazy vigilante lady while I supply them with connections and information. Sorry for not telling you in the first place. But hey, at least now you know, right?' Yeah, that'll go over _so well_ ," I said, with an eye roll, and words dripping with no small amount of derision.

"Cool it with the sarcasm femme," he snapped. "I get it, but you need to tell them anyway. Especially after what we found. Remember?"

Eyes sliding shut as my grip tightened on the wood staff, I sighed heavily, nodding.

—Flashback—

It was couple days after Ironhide and I had gotten back from New Orleans. Now remember how we had helped a man named Jimmy steal some data for my least favorite person in the world, Drake Lusio? Yeah, well I made an extra copy of the data we had stolen because I didn't trust Lusio. (Surprise, surprise).

Now, in intelligence gathering, too little information is obviously a problem but too much information is just as bad in some ways. For example, the entire terabyte of information I was now scrolling through that listed multiple military locations, ops, and other multitudes of classified information. It was _a lot_ of sensitive information okay?

Seriously, so far as I can tell, I was probably looking at a deep dark hole for a prison cell in an unknown location and a thrown out key for the rest of my miserable existence if the government found out. I would never see the light of day again.

"How'd it go with Jimmy?" Ironhide had asked, working on his cannons yet again while I sifted through the mass of information.

"Great. He gave a call. He's with his family. He's safe," I said with a tight expression, whipping out my phone and showing a picture of the man with his family. All of them were smiling happily up at the camera, safe and sound.

"Looks happy enough," he grunted after a minute of inspection, though I got the impression that he was proud of our success despite the end result. "How goes it with the information your pal wanted?"

Rolling my eyes exasperatedly, I refrained from correcting him, yet again, that that asshat was _not_ my pal, knowing it would do me no good.

"So far as I can tell? They've got everything from various military weapons to troop locations to past and current operations and so on. And every op looks pretty nasty, too. The question though is why does he want this stuff?"

He shrugged. "No clue, but it's a start."

"Yeah, but something tells me…" I trailed off, eyes landing on the newest document I had pulled up on my screen. " _Shit_."

"What? What is it femme?" he asked, appearing genuinely concerned.

I didn't answer, instead opting to turn the screen around to show him the article.

" _Frag_ ," he eventually cursed, echoing my previous statements.

"MECH. Lusio is working with MECH."

—Flashback End—

Eyes snapping open, my grey orbs narrowed, and I meticulously began the sequence again with a little more ferocity than necessary. "I am well aware of what we discovered Ironhide. But do you have any idea what type of uproar this kind of information would cause? How many unwanted questions this would bring up?" I shook my head. "Trust me, there is a lot of things, questions that I do not nor am I willing to answer just yet. It's better for them to remain ignorant for now. One more secret won't harm them."

"Say's you. Aria," he growled. Surprised by his tone, I glance his way for the first time and realized how surprisingly angry the weapon's specialist looked. "You need to tell them soon, _before_ they manage to find out on their own because you were too much of a coward to tell them."

"I can't, Ironhide."

"Yes, you can."

"No, I slagging can't!"

"Yes—"

"No!"

"Fragnabbit! Why can't you just tell them you stubborn organic?" he yelled, throwing his servos up in the air out of frustration as he towered over me. I guess I should just be grateful that base was mostly empty right now. Plus, everyone was so used to Ironhide and I arguing that they barely batted an eyelash anymore. Otherwise, I'm sure we'd have an audience right about now.

"Because this is my responsibility alone!" I hollered back before I could stop myself.

"I– What?" He seemed as surprised as I was by the admission.

Sighing, I massaged my temples tiredly, inhaling a bit before speaking again. "Arcee almost getting gutted? Jack nearly getting hurt because of it? Breakdown almost being made into spare parts? Bumblebee getting his T-cog stolen? Those are all my fault. I am the one who is fragging feeding them all the information, hooking them up with some of my underground contacts, giving them resources to hurt you all."

"Fem, I never blame—"

"No! If it hadn't been for me– If I had just been more responsible and careful, none of this would have happened. No one except MECH would be getting hurt."

"But MECH isn't your problem or responsibility," he pointed out, to which I nodded.

"No, but I made it mine because I know that I have the skill set required to take them down. And because of that decision, I don't want anyone else to get hurt for the decisions I have made or may make in the future."

There was silence from the mech, then…

"You are the smartest yet stupidest human I have ever met."

I blinked. "Huh?"

"Femme, you have to learn to stop being so excessively independent. Even strong beings eventually crumble on their own with no support."

There was silence as I considered his words. As much as I would have loved to deny him, I knew he was beyond right. I had grown so accustomed to being alone, supporting myself, and looking out for number one as selfish as that sounds. But it was the way I was raised with. The knowledge that the only one you could trust to do things the way you wanted was how I had grown up, making me strongly independent.

"Squishy, trust me. They might just surprise you."

Finally, I sighed before turning away from him. Raising the long wooden staff once more, I took a deep breath before starting all over again, murmuring quietly, "I– I'll think about it."

For now, that was as good as my answer was going to get.

* * *

—Next Day—

A day passed, and things went from bad to worse.

Not only had I learned that MECH had joined forces with Starscream, but they were using the rogue Decepticon's insider knowledge and expertise to speed up the construction of MECH's robot. Apparently, the agreement was that he would provide them with what he knew, and they would help him get the energon that both parties needed. Yeah, talk about making a demon's deal there.

And even if I hadn't known all that, the fact that we were barely entertaining a hyperactive, t-cog-less mech was considerably bad too. Seriously, it may not sound so bad, but it was exhausting just watching the poor yellow mech practically dancing on the tips of his pede's as he asked every five minutes for some kind of news, while Optimus, Ironhide and Bulkhead were out on a mission. Of course, that only served to annoy poor Ratchet further.

Valiantly, the kids had tried to help distract Bumblebee with various activities. But, well, to quote Miko, "Taking the 'auto' out of an Autobot is so not a good thing."

Anyways, after shooting Miko a look of disdain and wondering for the umpteenth time how she had survived this long, I decided to try my hand, calling out to the mech, "Hey Bee! Can I talk to you? In private I mean."

At that, everyone, including Bumblebee, gave me varying looks that ranged from surprised curiosity (Bumblebee, Jack and Raf), to anger and annoyance (Miko), to active suspicion (Arcee), and finally to relief and understanding (Ratchet).

:{ _Aria, I don't—_ }: the scout began before I interrupted.

"Please." The tone in my voice made it clear that it was a command, not a request.

Eventually, he shrugged and allowed me to lead him away, neither of us saying a thing until we were well away from the others and their prying eyes and ears.

"Alright," I finally said, stopping in the training room. "Spill. What's this really about?"

There was a look on my face that told him just how drop-dead serious I was about this.

:{ _I don't—_ }: he began, trying to feign ignorance.

" _Bumblebee_ , I am not blind. I can see you wanting to lash out every single time someone tells you 'no', that you are not equipped to handle stuff right now," I snapped, fixing him with a look that told him I saw right through him. I could see him grow taut at the words, metal hands clenching.

:{ _I didn't—_ }:

"You practically bit Ratchet's helm off when he tried to talk some sense into you!" I quickly pointed out. "But you and I both know for a fact that lashing out is not going to solve a thing…And I also think that we both know that this isn't just about a t-cog or voice box, now is it?"

Again and again, his digits curled and unfurled at a rapid pace, like he wanted to strangle something.

"No. This is about you feeling useless—"

:{ _No…_ }: he quietly denied for all the good it did him as I steamrollered on, talking over him.

"—Completely helpless—"

:{ _No._ }: His tone was a little more firm this time.

"—Unable to do a thing to protect your friends—" I continued, voice much louder than he was.

:{ _That's enough._ }:

"—Considered obsolete because you are handicapped—"

:{ _I said, be quiet._ }: His voice held hints of rising anger now.

"—Broken and unfixable."

:{ _Shut up!_ }: the mech buzzed, angrily slamming his fist into the cement ground to the left of me.

I didn't even flinch; expression remaining blank as hardened stone.

"Then stop acting like a helpless child," I retorted snappishly, eyes like steel. I didn't really care if the others had heard the crash. I needed to make my point to the mech. "There are dozens of others out there like you, both human's and cybertronian's, who are handicapped and left without the use of more than just a voice box or even some of their limbs. _Soldiers_ , _Bee_ , like you, and they operate just fine without being able to do all the things the average person does. Many of them don't ever have the hope of being the same again, unlike you. But do they complain? No! They adapt to what they are given. They make it work."

The black and yellow mech shook with anger and frustration, throwing his servos up in the air as he began pacing a little. :{ _Ugh! Human's like you will never understand, Aria! You don't know what it's like to have something important, that is a vital part of you, taken away! To be treated differently because everyone knows you aren't like them!_ }:

I snorted a humorless laugh as my next word's cut through the tension with the finality of a guillotine blade falling at an execution. "If that's what you think, then you're wrong."

Bumblebee's optics widened in surprise as he whirled around to face me.

"You see this?" I said, lifting my right arm and pointing at the bandage.

He bobbed his head up and down slowly.

"Well hon, it ain't for show. I can tell you that much. Every second of every single day, I live with the knowledge that this arm will never be able to lift as much as the other. That I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure that my emotions are in check, that my heart rate doesn't go above a certain level, that I eat the right foods and take the right vitamins because otherwise I'm going to end up dead, lying in a pool of my own blood.

"So don't tell me I don't know, that I don't understand because I understand better than most. I live on a high wire Bee, doing a balancing act between life and death. Unlike you, I'm basically living on borrowed time. I'm not guaranteed to see the next sunrise. You, on the other hand, are."

:{ _I– I'm sorry. I didn't know._ }: he apologized, having acumen to look ashamed of himself.

However, I wasn't done with him just yet. Call it tough love if you will, but Bee needed to understand.

"You better be," I snapped. "Because Bee you are just as amazing without wheels. Like Rafael said, speed isn't everything. Last time I checked, you cybertronian's don't think with your tires. You use that thing up inside your thick helm called a processor. Do you not?"

:{ _Yes ma'am._ }: he said, door wings sagging further.

Lugs filling with air as I tried to soothe the tirade I dearly wished to give him, I said a little more calmly. "Look, Bumblebee. I won't ask about what happened to your voice box—that's for you to share when you are willing—but I understand the notion that you don't want to be put in the same position as when it was damaged. To be helpless again." I took another deep breath. "All I'm asking is that you consider everyone else's point of view. Trust me, none of the other's think you are helpless, but you have to understand that they are trying to do what they think is best for you."

:{ _I can take care of myself though. They don't need to protect me. I mean, I'm not a sparkling anymore. Why can't they see that? What do I have to do to prove that I'm not?_ }:

My lips quirked. The direction this conversation was going was making me feel more than a little nostalgic. "Bee, I know that you can protect yourself, but you have to understand that the others are just trying to look out for a family member. You don't have to prove anything, just have faith that the others are trying to repay all the times that you have saved their hide's. You've had their back's all this time; now let them have yours for a change."

All was quiet for a moment as the young mech stewed on my words. It felt sort of odd giving advice to others (not just Optimus), but I felt like I owed the yellow scout at least that much for having a hand in MECH's affairs. It would never completely make it up to him, I knew, but at least I tried in my own, subtle way. That's what counted, right?

Finally, after several minutes of silence, Bumblebee spoke, and I was proud to hear a lighter tone in his voice.

:{ _Thank you, Aria, for telling me this. For everything._ }:

"You're welcome." _I just wish I could do more to make up for what I've done to you._

* * *

—Later—

The next couple of days after that conversation consisted of absolute and utter chaos. Apparently Bee decided to be reckless and charge onto a battlefield with no available weapons except his processor, and the Decepticon's added Iacon pay day number two to their stash. Meanwhile, MECH had managed to acquire some energon with Starscream's help and were close to completing their plans which I knew was anything but good.

I hadn't been able to make it to base in that time though. What, with both work (both legal and illegal) and school, I had been running myself ragged trying to juggle everything. Now I had returned to the circus here on base only to be drawn into yet another performance.

"…Obviously, since I am the other patient involved, I will be unable to perform the surgery. Therefore, one of you must serve as my proxy." This had to be the Hatchet's craziest idea yet. He wanted to transfer his t-cog to Bumblebee, and he was voluntelling one of the Autobots (plus me) to do it.

"Better at breaking things," the medic dismissed the green wrecker, who sighed in relief.

"Don't even try it Hatchet," Ironhide warned before the medic could even ask.

"Arcee."

"Optimus has steadier hands," the femme immediately tried to persuade.

"Steady and much too large to be rooting around beneath my hood," Ratchet refuted.

"Try Aria then. She fixed up Ironhide well enough."

"Leave me out of this," I said with a glare, looking up from my laptop long enough to shoot them all the look which dared any one of them to argue with me. I was still drowning in work.

"Arcee, you can do this. You're as steely as they come," Jack reasoned with the femme.

"On a battlefield, not in an operating theater," she pointed out though I got the impression that this refusal had more to do with personal reasons.

 _Probably with what happened to Cliffjumper_ , some part of my mind hissed in supply.

"Same thing, as long as you're behind the knife, not under it," the raven-haired teen retorted, probably catching that too.

"Does this mean Bumblebee's gonna transform into an ambulance from now on or be all cranky? 'Cause that would be weird," Miko queried as per her usual idiotic ways.

I rolled my eyes at them all and went back to work. _Idiots, the lot of them_.

* * *

—Later—

Once again sitting all on my lonesome with my laptop still before me, I paused in my work to look over and meet Optimus' gaze, who stood not too far away, with an expression on my face that silently told him exactly how I felt about this entire debacle.

"Inducing stasis," Arcee announced.

:{ _Thank you so much Ratchet._ }: Bumblebee buzzed from the medical berth he laid on.

"You can…thank me…when it's over…" the medic murmured before he succumbed to the medically induced stasis.

"Okay, Bumblebee. Your turn," Arcee warned the scout.

However, before she could even lift a digit, an urgent tone rang out from one of the computers causing everyone to freeze.

Poor Raf didn't know what it was just like the others and panicked. "What's happening?!" he asked, eyes wide.

"Ratchet's flat lining!" Miko was the first to assume.

"No, he isn't," Arcee immediately refuted with a mixture of hesitation and irritation in her tone, as if insulted by Miko's assumption for being that bad at playing medic.

Thankfully, Optimus kept his helm, stating calmly over everyone's hysteria, "It's an Iacon homing beacon."

"If we're picking up the signal," Bulkhead began, immediately catching on.

Ironhide nodded. "Then it means the 'Cons just unearthed another relic."

"Autobots, prepare to roll out," Optimus commanded with his familiar call to arms.

"Yes!" Arcee cheered, causing me to snort in slight amusement.

"Saved by the Con's. Whaddya know," I smirked to myself aloud, stating what just about everyone was probably thinking.

Of course, Bumblebee, who wasn't unconscious like Ratchet, instantly made to get up, obviously wanting to help. Optimus noticed this too, because he quickly amended, "Except for our patients."

Immediately, Bee's excitement for action deflated like an inflatable tube with a hole in it. Poor guy.

"It would be best to interrupt stasis," Optimus then said, turning to Arcee, who nodded and shut off the switch which controlled the medically induced stasis.

"I'll keep an eye on 'em," I promised, to which Optimus smiled infinitesimally and nodded, going back to organizing the others with that assurance.

* * *

—Later—

You know that saying "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade"? Well whoever said that clearly didn't anticipate certain scenarios like the crazy ones I was subjected to when they said that.

No joke, less than five minutes after the others left base, Agent Fowler called base with some important info.

-{ **Prime! Breaking news.** }-

Before I or anyone else could speak though, Bumblebee answered, thoroughly confusing Fowler since the dark-skinned man couldn't understand what the mech was saying.

-{ **Huh?** }- was the ever intelligent response from the man on the other end of the video-chat. -{ **Where's Prime? Look, let him know I just received access to satellite imagery which I believe pinpoints the center of operations of MECH.** }-

Bee buzzed and beeped some more, speaking quickly enough that I just barely got the gist of what he was saying.

-{ **Oh, for the love of— Get me someone who speaks something other than** _ **bleep**_ **!** }-

"Rude," I muttered.

"I can help," Raf finally spoke up.

Behind us, Ratchet, who was still out of it, all of a sudden spoke, obviously not all there as he muttered some weird gibberish like how some people do when coming off on anesthesia. "What? Do I hear a fuzor in need of voice-box repair?"

-{ **What's a fuzor?! What's going on over there**?}-

Poor Fowler, Ratchet probably sounded drunk to him or something.

"I am able. Just ask Bantor. He was all mandrel before I put a tiger in his tank," the confused Ratchet declared, lifting a digit in an educating manner as he spoke before he one more fell back asleep.

I rubbed my forehead, running the fingers through my hair a little. This was way too much for me; I could just feel a headache coming on already.

Meanwhile, Bee turned to Raf, asking him to tell Fowler to send the info over.

"But, Bee, you heard what Optimus said about leaving the base," Raf reasoned, looking worried.

:{ _Please Raf._ }: the scout begged.

Walking over to stand by the kid on the railing, I regarded the Autobot carefully. "Bumblebee, are you positive this is something you can handle and aren't just doing this to prove a point?" I questioned him seriously, grey eyes searching his bright baby blue optics.

:{ _Positive, Aria. I can do this. Please._ }:

I searched his optics for a moment longer, but the scout didn't flinch or waver or look away under my scrutiny. Eventually, I sighed, muttering to myself, "He's gonna kill me for this." Then a little louder I said firmly, "Send the coordinates, Agent Fowler. We'll make sure Optimus gets them."

The yellow mech buzzed a sigh. :{ _Thank you, Aria. I owe you._ }:

I shook my head. "Don't thank me for this Bumblebee. You just get your T-cog back and don't play the hero. If you don't report back in thirty minutes, I'm throwing you under the bus and sending the cavalry after you."

* * *

—Later—

As you can imagine, when Ratchet finally came too (fully awake this time) and we informed him about what had happened while he was unconscious, the scarlet and white mech flipped out for lack of a better word. He was pretty pissed that Bumblebee had once again gone into a potentially lethal scenario without any way to defend himself.

Miko, of course, had not hesitated in throwing me under the bus—pun not intended—by squealing to Ratchet that I had been the one to give Bee the okay and given him the coordinates from Fowler.

Predictably, the mech had then turned his ire on me, and I just barely managed to defend myself with cool logic before distracting him by pointing out that he should probably get on the horn with Optimus and tell him what had happened. However, I knew that would probably not be the end of it when OP heard what I had done. I just prayed he didn't kill me until I had said my piece. Hopefully, Bumblebee would still be alive to back me up when the leader of the Autobots cornered me.

Still, I apparently didn't have to worry too much because everything worked out in the end, and Bee got his biomechanism back, though it looked like it had been barbequed when we saw it.

Then there was the fact that apparently Megatron and company had managed to get their clawed digits on a Primely relic known as the Forge of Solus Prime. The odd thing though: Optimus didn't seem too worried about that. It had seriously confused me at first, especially the faint note of amusement I had detected in his tone, until I had confronted him, and he had explained that most of the relics of the Primes only responded to those who carried the Matrix of Leadership. In other words, only Primes could use the relics.

I had to laugh a little at that, imagining a chibi version of Megatron pounding a random scrap of metal with a large hammer and then frustratedly throwing a tantrum like a child, kicking and screaming, when nothing happened.

In any matter…

"I did what I could," Ratchet told us all solemnly after he had finished putting Bee's T-cog back in and the scout had awoken from anesthesia.

Optimus however, didn't let his medic dwell on his despair. "Our scout could not have been in better hands, old friend."

"And we didn't stick with Plan A and let Ratchet donate his Cog why?" I heard Miko ask from her spot near the pedes of the Autobot's, her tone suggesting that 'Plan A', as she had called it, was a no-brainer.

"Bumblebee wouldn't accept it," Jack told her quietly.

Meanwhile, on the medical berth with Rafael for company, the yellow scout tried to sit up.

:{ _Did it work?_ }:

"Bumblebee! Easy," the medic intoned, looking a tad nervous.

The yellow mech, however, stretched flexing his limbs a little before he asked, :{ _Can I transform now Ratchet?_ }:

"Please. Recovery takes time," Ratchet tried to dissuade, visibly wincing at all the sharp movements the mech made, though I still noted how he dodged the question.

Still, Bumblebee tried to transform, his chassis and arm shifting visibly for a moment before reverting to their original state.

:{ _What…?_ }: he began, visibly panicked.

"The damage was severe…" the medic trailed off when the scout looked to him for answers, all of us holding our breath.

Stubborn to a fault though, the mech tried again, looking put out when it didn't work until it was overtaken by surprise when he managed to shift into his vehicle mode at last.

Everyone cheered, smiling and letting go of that breath of trepidation we were all guilty of holding in

I missed what he said to Raf over the screech of tires, only catching the tail-end of the conversation when little Raf replied as he climbed into the passenger's seat, saying, "Anywhere. Just drive."

"Go easy!" Ratchet called after them, though laughing joyously all the same. "Adhere to standard break-in procedure!"

"Whoa-ho-ho! Bee's T-cog looked like it was ready for the scrapyard," Bulkhead said.

Arcee and Ironhide nodded, both with smiles on their faces too as the femme said agreeably, "Hard to believe the Doc repaired it."

"That is not all that Ratchet repaired today," Optimus murmured as our gazes met for a moment before we both looked away from each other. Maybe it was just me but I swore I saw some unknown emotion in his Persian blue optics for that brief second.

"And what about MECH?" Jack suddenly asked, dampening the mood as we all turned to Agent Fowler for answers.

The dark-skinned man shook his head. "In the wind, I'm afraid. They ghosted as soon as their Op failed, and their warehouse was stripped clean by the time our boys stormed the place. There wasn't even one useful scrap that could help us trace it back to either MECH or their new supplier."

Everyone stiffened at that, myself included though my reaction was a lot more subtle.

"Supplier?" Ratchet echoed.

The man sighed wearily, massaging his face. "From what our inside sources have managed to gather, MECH has obtained a faceless supplier that only goes by the pseudonym "The Phoenix". Not much is known about them except they are good at covering their tracks, like scary good. No one seems to know who they are, but they've got a lot of deep connections in the criminal underground," he explained, looking both frustrated and troubled at the same time.

Unseen by everyone else, I averted my gaze a little from them, both ashamed of myself for my part in all of this and my silence. I really wished I could tell them, but…I couldn't and for so many reasons. Or maybe that was just me trying to convince myself to not involve any of them.

* * *

—Later—

"Hey Optimus," I finally spoke out of the blue, breaking the comfortable silence as I turned away from the view outside of the window.

It was night already with only ten minutes to curfew. Having been given a lift to base earlier that day before all the excitement, Optimus was now driving me home once more like the gentlemechly bot he was before he went out on patrol.

"Yes Aria?" he answered.

Even with all of the hectic events that had happened this week (not to mention today as well), I had been pondering this for quite some time, wondering how best to ask and questioning whether if I should ask at all.

 _Of course, you're gonna ask_ , I told myself with a mental shake. _This is Izzy we're talking about here_.

Anyways, I took a deep breath, gathering my courage and realizing belatedly that I had left Optimus hanging for a little while.

In the end, I decided to just come out and say it, doing my best to ignore the blush on my face. "Optimus, how would you like to come with me to Arizona for my Winter Break to visit a close friend of mine?"

* * *

And there you have it! Another chapter down and only seventy more to go! Just kidding, I have no solid idea how many chapters this story is going to be. Anyways, I'm sorry for the really late update. My life was getting hectic and I needed to sort out my priorities, which meant putting the writing to the side for a while. Still, I hope to get back into the swing of things soon.

Also, I'm not sure if anyone noticed but I have published a little AU, Christmas one-shot based off of this. Again it's AU, and it's also a little ahead of its time since in there, Aria's and Optimus' relationship has already kicked off. Still if you guys wanna check it out the title of this one-shot is "White Christmas" like the song.

In any matter, please review, favorite, follow, and check out my polls! The **Five-Review Policy** is still in effect. Have a wonderful rest of your day!


	36. White Knight

Howdy all! Sorry for the long wait! College is pretty hectic and I've been having my nonexistent butt worked off in cardio kickboxing. Anyways, I hope everything is good for everyone and ya'll enjoyed Thursday's Saint Valentine's Day or as one girl I know calls it 'Singles Day'. I'm sorry for not getting anything out that day but my schedule has been pretty busy and this chapter—as well as the next four or five chapters—has been fighting me, even if it would have been perfect for Saint Valentines. Seriously, this has been the chapter all you avid readers have been waiting for.

Also, to answer your questions, no I haven't seen _Bumblebee_ yet (though I plan to), but I have been watching that new series _Gen:LOCK_. Anyone else look into it? I honestly love it so far and find it very promising.

Now enough blabbering from me!

Onto acknowledgements!

Thank you to **Estella prime** , **Steelcode** , **Shirodahero** , **Guest (1)** , **ChaChaChaChan** , **NinjaGirl2009101** , **b. marr** , **Waterfront** , **BarrelRacer1205** , **bajy** , **Guest (2)** , **Cinematronix** , **Sfrizz5959** , **ryannea. reed** , **J** , **The chemist 84** , **Wildwolf** , **Ma-ki Ji-ez** , **AzureWolf21** , **catheryne. sans** , and those who favorited and followed myself and this story!

 **Disclaimer:** I do no own Transformers Prime or any other recognizable works.

* * *

 **Chapter 36: White Knight**

—Nightfall, Location Unknown—

Arms crossed and expression portraying nothing except bored annoyance, sharp grey eyes took in the man before me. Standing at about six foot nothing, I would hazard a guess that he was possibly somewhere in his forties. He had scarring on the left side of his face that reached for the edge of his silver-grey hairline all the way down to his rather squarish jaw, and another one that mimicked one of my own facial scars and ran horizontally across his nose too. But none of that changed the fact that when I looked into his extremely dark brown—practically black—eyes, I felt like I was looking into cold, soulless pits from the abyss.

My frost queen of a mama ain't got nothing on this king cold. (Sorry couldn't resist).

"You better have a good reason for calling me here, Silas," I snapped, hoping to mask how unnerved I was by the man before me with anger and irritation. It helped a little that I had had a bit of a rough day at school too and was now nursing the beginnings of _another_ headache. "Some of us do have lives you know."

Instead of bristling like how most people would at my blatant rudeness, Silas seemed more amused if anything by my show of temper. "All in good time my dear Nix. Did you get the package?"

I rolled my eyes with a huff. See? I can do the teen attitude thing too. In any case, I easily turned and reached into the trunk of my Charger heaving out a long, rectangular box—a shipping crate really—about the size of a big guitar case.

Sorry, I guess I should explain the whole meet up thing going on here. You see as of recently, Silas and I had been (finally) meeting up in person. This being the second time. So far, it had been small things (-ish), deliveries of anonymous items, and I was getting extremely suspicious as to why he wanted these deliveries in person. I mean come on! He has the Kevlar-clad goon squad to do that for him! What does he need me for?

Luckily, this time I had taken a couple extra measures to possibly get an idea of what was going on…or at least get an idea from whatever was in the packages I delivered.

"Ya know, I really don't appreciate the lack of info I'm being provided around here," I rumbled, expression dark as the dense moonlit forest we were currently in, allowing two of his lackey's to take the crate. "And I also don't appreciate being your delivery girl either, Silas. I told you before that I'm not going to be paraded around as somebody else's poster girl."

I won't deny that I internally grinned like a wolf at how some of his other goons visibly flinched at my tone, noticeably shifting slightly when my eyes fell on them. It seemed my reputation precedes me.

Once again, however, Silas seemed to be the only one immune to it unfortunately.

"Still so untrusting I see," he replied smoothly.

I snorted, pounding the sole of one of my heavy leather boots into the ground like a stag preparing to charge as I shifted my stance a little. "As I stated before, I don't trust anybody." _Except a select list of people that I can count on one hand_ , I mentally added.

"A wise policy."

I gave him a deadpanned expression. "Do you have what I want or not? Cuz otherwise I'm walking away right now."

He turned his head toward one of his men, exchanging a pair of nods before the latter tossed the albino one of those yellow package envelopes. "This is everything we've managed to get so far. He's been surprisingly difficult to track," he said, offering it in my direction as we met in the middle of the clearing.

Reaching for it, I never once looked away from his gaze, knowing that even though we were humans, looking away would be a sign of weakness.

 _He makes me think of a shark_ , I realized, jerking the thing out of his grip. _Or a snake. Mostly a snake. Calling him a shark is an insult to sharks. Whatever though, it doesn't matter. He's still a vile little creep._

I huffed again through my nose, muttering, "'Difficult' he says. Ha! You don't know the half of it."

Fixing my angry grey eyes back on him, I tried to look as stern and intimidating as possible, voice just as biting as I snapped, "Now if that's all and you're done wasting my time, I've got things to do." I turned to go, but he held out a hand catching me.

"Hold on."

Slate-colored eyes were now flashing dangerously as they followed up the arm connected to said hand, finally resting on the face of its owner.

" _Don't touch me_." Those three words, spoken in a low, growling, almost hissing tone, would have had even your most hardened street criminals pissing their pants as they ran away. Say nothing of my expression, which promised agony of epic proportions as well as a couple missing extremities.

Meeting my gaze, his stern face betrayed nothing as he seemed to be searching for…something. whatever it was, I'm guessing he either found it or didn't because he let his hand fall and went back to ordering his men around. He acted for all the world as if he hadn't just violated my personal bubble and touched me without permission.

Is it just me or was that really weird? I'll let you be the judge.

* * *

—Later—

Sighing, I trudged up the darkened stairs towards the bathroom on the second floor of my shop, praying for the aspirin to kick in any minute now. The headache—or migraine, I always forgot the difference; Izzy would probably know though—I mentioned earlier had been bothering me for at least a week now, coming and going whenever it damn pleased and generally giving me a hard time despite the medication I took.

Flipping on the light with a wince, I took in my unkempt appearance standing before the mirror, covered in grime and stains like my clothes were from a hard day of work in the shop. Yawning hugely, I set about stripping down to nothing before hopping into the shower with a sponge and a bottle of extra strong soap.

It had been roughly a week after Optimus had agreed to come with me to visit my baby sister in one weeks' time. Of course, he still didn't know it was my sister, and I was still trying to figure out how to best drop that bomb on him as well as coming clean about my parental situation. Yeah, not easy task. Straightaway after asking him, I had been half-tempted to retract my offer with a laughing "Just kidding!" like the coward I really was. Oh well, too little too late. Now I possessed control of half a dozen ticking bombs and no idea what to do with them, much less diffuse them.

Was it just me or had I just dug my own grave right there?

My forehead met the cool, wet tile of the shower wall as I rested it there. There were a million and a half thoughts swirling around in my brain with one big headache to boot and no cure or solution.

Groaning, I stood straight once more, reaching with one hand and turning off the warm—borderline scalding—spray of water while grabbing a fresh towel from the rack with the other.

 _I'm too tired to deal with this shit_ , I thought wiping the fog off the mirror. Even my mental cursing filter seemed to be already taking a siesta too.

 _How the hell did I manage to get oil all the way up behind my ear?_ I thought in bewilderment, noticing the random dark spot behind my right ear. However, eventually, I just shrugged tiredly at my reflection before beginning to scrub, figuring I must have accidentally gotten some there when I was underneath one of the cars today and had rolled off my creeper once.

 _Funny, it almost looks like the glyph for Prime_ _in cybertronian_ , I mentally mused as I attacked the area with the sponge. However, despite how viciously I scrubbed the stubborn dark splotch, it just wouldn't go away. In the end, I ended up tossing the sponge back in the sink after wringing it. With nothing but a towel to cover me, my aching feet carried me out of the bathroom as I silently resolved to do a better cleaning job tomorrow because I was too damn tired right now.

* * *

—Dream—

 _On an alien planet far, far away, a shadow-covered mech gasped softly, whipping his helm around to stare in the direction of something only he could feel. Though it was hard to make out their features in the dark, the gentle glow of the two moons overhead gave off enough light to reveal that the figure appeared to be listening closely to something._

 _Red optics the color of candy apple seemed to brighten as time passed, and there almost seemed to be an unseen smile playing on obscured features._

 _Why did he seem familiar?_

 _A deep voice suddenly emanated from the mech, speaking only one word in a low tone. "Brother…"_

 _Standing, the broad mech made his way over to a small spacecraft that stood nearby. His pace seemed calm though was a tad hurried, if close to skipping if the way he held his wings high was any clue._

 _However, it was as he was just taking off, not too far outside of the planet's atmosphere, that he suddenly gasped, crying out as if in pain. A clawed servo immediately went to his chassis, resting where both his spark and the new pain lay as he slumped a little in his seat._

 _"No…!"_

 _Any happiness he had was immediately drained from the seeker's features and replaced with pain, mourning, anger, sadness and longing._

 _The connection had been severed, leaving a gaping hole behind. His brother was dead, and there could only be one logical explanation as to why._

 _"Autobots."_

* * *

—The Next Day, Autobot Base—

"Ow! Take it easy, Doc. I need that arm," the mostly white mech yelped, pulling away when the medic got too close to a sensitive spot with the welder.

And guess who's back?

"Hold still and maybe you'll keep it," Ratchet retorted gruffly, going back to work on the Wrecker's shoulder.

Yep, that's right. Wheeljack.

"Look, commander," Wheeljack said, obviously addressing Optimus. You could easily tell that he wasn't very comfortable with addressing someone with higher authority or authority in general. There was probably a good story behind that too. "Apologies for the fireworks. Won't happen again. But I tracked Dreadwing across a hundred light-years of space.

"I thought you were roving the galaxy, you know, looking for Autobot refugees," Bulkhead stated, confused.

"I was, until I found one. A Wrecker."

I frowned when I noticed the look that came over the mech's face at the words; something told me that this tale did not have a happy ending.

Meanwhile, Bulkhead's optics lit up like the Fourth of July, oblivious to the other Wrecker's shift in tone.

"Who?" he asked eagerly, oblivious to Wheeljack's less than happy expression.

"Seaspray."

The green Wrecker laughed heartily. "How is old barnacle butt?"

"Not so good, Bulk. Blown to bits, actually." Maybe it was just me, but there was this dangerous expression on Wheeljack's faceplates that spoke volumes more than what he was actually saying.

Meanwhile, Bulkhead's features slackened in shock as everyone else looked downhearted to hear of another death on their side. It was an inevitable side-effect of war, but it didn't make it any easier. "What? No!"

"Dreadwing," my guardian surmised, stating what we all were thinking in a low rumble.

Once again, I noticed that war-torn look of _age_ in his optics that make him look centuries older than he probably was. Being the leader of the Autobot's, he took every death personally it seemed because ultimately each one had joined his cause and was therefore his responsibility. No doubt, he was already internally beating himself up over the death of the Wrecker; I should know this being both his charge and once a leader myself.

 _Albeit failed one_ , I reminded myself morosely before tuning back into the conversation where Wheeljack was explaining what had happened with a slightly far off look in his optics.

"My flier, the Jackhammer, picked up Seaspray's signal a couple of light-years from Madeira. We made contact and arranged a rendezvous in the Andromeda system. But Dreadwing must have intercepted the transmission, 'cause he got to Seaspray first. Proximity bomb was supposed to take us both out. Guess I should be glad that Jackhammer can take a punch. I picked up Dreadwing's ion trail and tracked it through a dozen solar systems before catching up with him. And he led me right back to this marble." He focused back on all of us, optics dim. "Some coincidence, huh?"

"I know of this Dreadwing," Optimus admitted. "He was captain of a seeker armada, and, as such, like his twin, Skyquake, fiercely loyal to the Decepticon cause. Dreadwing has no doubt traveled to Earth to pay allegiance to his one true master."

 _Megatron_ , I thought, knowing everyone else had come to the same conclusion. Yet, in the back of my mind, I noted that Optimus hadn't used that name for some reason.

"Hope he's enjoying the visit," Wheeljack said, abruptly standing up and making a determined fist while Ratchet frowned deeply at him. "It's gonna be his last."

"Wheeljack, this planet is heavily inhabited. Any strike we make against the Decepticons must be _carefully_ measured as a team, lest we risk endangering the human population," my guardian informed the white-mech in a stern tone, warning evident that his orders were to not be disobeyed.

The Wrecker didn't like that. "Are you suggesting we sit back and do nothing?" he demanded, glaring at all of us, especially Optimus. I really didn't like that, though I couldn't blame Wheeljack either.

I knew quite well how he felt, and as such, I could predict quite well what he would do next is confronted with Dreadwing. Figuring that I might as well get a head start though, I quietly slipped out of the room, taking a route through base that I knew would lead me to where Wheeljack's ship, the _Jackhammer_ , was currently being kept.

The last thing I heard was Fowler storming into the room, bellowing about loose cannons and cowboy antics. I am pretty sure he even went so far as to tell Optimus to keep a tighter leash on his people too. Yeah, that was not going to go over well with the Wrecker, not at all.

 _Whatever. It doesn't matter in the long run_ , I told myself, mind beginning to stray down a very dark path, one that had not I treaded in a long time but was still quite familiar with. _It may have been a long time ago for me, but I was in the same exact place Wheeljack is in now. And for all his suave ways and bad boy antics, I know better than anyone else what he'll do because I did the same exact thing he did years ago. Hell I'm still doing it years later. But unlike me, he won't be going in without help._

Picking up my pace, I didn't need a mirror to watch how my expression hardened as I steeled my resolve, eyes determined and burning with a fiery passion.

No matter what happened, Wheeljack would not be doing this alone. I was going to make sure of it; any way necessary if need be.

* * *

—Later—

Despite being a simple—okay not so simple but you get what I mean—mechanic for cars and technology that was light years' behind cybertronian tech, running a diagnostic on a ship like the _Jackhammer_ wasn't so hard. Mind you, the computers on there did most of the work, but they also provided a detailed description of how to repair the areas that needed the most work or required immediate attention. Gotta love alien tech. Besides, once you took away all the complex parts, it was pretty similar to the basis of any engine I had seen before.

Anyways, my hunch proved to be spot on as ten minutes after I started work on patching a hole in one of the fuel lines in the ship, Wheeljack appeared. However, the sour expression on his faceplates told me that the conversation back at base had taken a turn for the worse.

He didn't notice me though. He just started attacking the maintenance duties of his ship, muttering a couple low choice words.

I debated whether I should give him a couple minutes to himself or talk to him, but Bulkhead appeared soon after with the apparent intention to have a heart to heart—excuse me, _spark to spark_ with his buddy.

I admit that I did listen in just a little. Okay, I totally did, but it was kind of hard not to when they were less than fifty feet away and not even attempting to keep their voices down.

"Jackie, look. Even if it weren't for the humans, we couldn't take on the Cons right now. We're outnumbered," Bulkhead tried to reason.

Whirling away from his half-sparked attempt to fix some wiring on the ship, Wheeljack rounded on his friend, reciting a bunch of names like a memorabilia mantra that had Bulkhead cringing. "Roadbuster, Pyro, Impactor, Rotorstorm, Seaspray; all dust."

"That's what I'm talking about," the green mech persisted. He obviously didn't want to add another name to the list Wheeljack had recited. "Wreckers are Autobots. There just aren't that many of us left. But if we get behind Optimus, we have a chance to end this once and for all."

Wheeljack growled, looking even angrier almost. "Guys like Optimus they talk a good game, but when you're in the scrap, they don't want to get their hands dirty."

Desperately, I wanted to speak up, to defend the honor of Optimus because Wheeljack was dead wrong. He didn't know Optimus like I did. However, a thought echoed through my mind as I observed the volatile mech's behavior: _What's causing this?_

In any event though, I needn't have worried about defending Optimus because Bulkhead—bless his spark—was already doing it for me.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You don't know Optimus like I do. Being a Wrecker meant everything to me, but I left that behind."

Apparently, this was a familiar argument though.

"Because Prime was the real thing blah, blah, blah." The white and scarlet-green decaled mech scoffed, as if to say, "I'll believe it when I see it."

-{ **Wheeljack, I know you're out there, listening. I have a proposition for you.** }- a voice suddenly came from the ship's radio. It was smooth yet stern, not unlike some of the more okay businessmen I had met before.

"Is that—?" Bulkhead began to ask, probably guessing who it was on the other side of the call.

"Dreadwing." The loathing was all too palpable in the mostly white mech's voice.

-{ **Meet me at these coordinates…if you have the spark.** }-

I heard Wheeljack shifting a little before he replied in a sneering tone, "I'll see you there, Con, just to watch you fry."

Is it just me or was that moment a little familiar, as in its happened before?

"Jackie, it's a trap," Bulkhead immediately said, stating the obvious.

"I know, but when has that ever stopped me?" Wheeljack asked rhetorically. "You coming with?"

"At least let me call for backup," Bulkhead tried a little unsurely.

"You know Wreckers don't call for backup."

The two both sprouted huge grins as they chorused together, "They call for clean-up!" Total bromance moment, I tell you.

In any case, I figured that now was as good of a time as any to reveal myself. "Oi! Not without me you aren't!" I hollered, stepping out from where I had been lurking in the shadows.

Predictably, Bulkhead was the only one surprised by my appearance, unlike Wheeljack, who just smirked in his usual roguish way and said, "Finally decided to come out of hiding Half-Pint?"

"Oh so now I'm Half-Pint? Not Tiny anymore?" I prodded with an arched brow.

He smirked. "Possibly."

I rolled my eyes at him but didn't object. Just so long as he didn't call me pipsqueak, I wouldn't be obligated to chop off his mechly bits. "Anyways, that aside, don't we have a date with Dreadwing to be getting to?"

"We?" he parroted, raising an optic ridge. "Sorry fem, but you heard the Prime about endangering human life."

 _Oh so now he listens to authority_.

"Who said you're endangering my life if I'm coming willingly."

He smirked, amused by my insistence. "Nice try fem."

He went to turn away, but I still had one last trick up my sleeve.

"If you don't take me, I'll just tell OP and Hatchet where you went. I've already seen the coordinates. Then you'll have to deal with him giving you another lecture about safety and protocols." Pausing for a moment as another idea struck, I decided to add one last proverbial maraschino cherry on top of it all. "I'll even lie and say that you tried to take me along." There was a feral look on my face and a positively vindictive gleam in my eyes. I just hoped he wouldn't call my bluff.

Wheeljack whirled around, his optics narrowing on me. "You wouldn't."

"Try me," was my retort, solid poker face in place. "I'll do it, tears and all." Even my expression was practically daring him to say otherwise, to tell me I was wrong.

 _Please believe me. Please let this work. Please, I really don't want to do something drastic…_

For a moment, all fell silent as we proceeded stare each other down, trying to get the other to back down.

Wheeljack finally blinked, venting slightly as he said, "Fine. You win Half-Pint. Get on. Just remember that this ain't a field trip."

I probably would have done something Miko-like and cheered at that point, but I contained my emotions and simply nodded with only a hint of a smirk on my features.

"But…" Bulkhead began, appearing almost pained as he tried to think of a way to get me to stay behind.

"Don't strain yourself too much Bulkhead," I told him, patting his ankle lightly as I passed by, following Wheeljack's lead and boarding the ship. "Just go with it. If OP finds out, I'll tell him that I forced you both into taking me or something and that you both valiantly tried to get me to stay behind."

"I think you mean _when_ he finds out…" he muttered but followed after us anyways.

* * *

—Later—

Where did we go wrong? Seriously, our plan had been so straightforward and simple. We were going to have Wheeljack confront Dreadwing before herding him into a dead end canyon where Bulkhead and I would help—though mostly Bulkhead—surround him and keep him from escaping. Wheeljack had even given me a midget-sized—for cybertronian's anyways, though I think the technical term is minicon-sized but whatever—cybertronian blaster since my batons were still in the shop (as in being repaired I mean).

I guess though, that we all forgot that no plan ever survives a battle, even simple, straightforward ones like Wheeljack's. Unless you can predict the future, of course.

Everything worked out fine…until the end, where I found myself a part of a more modern demonstration of Edgar Allan Poe's "Premature Burial".

Now I was trapped in a pile of rocks, unable to move with my legs pinned as they were, and already on the way to having a panic attack thanks to my claustrophobia. Okay, correction: I am currently having a panic attack; it's just getting worse by the second. Honestly, if I thought that the mine incident had been bad, being trapped in a pile of rocks with even less space and unable to move my legs because they were pinned under more rubble—was a million times worse. Breathing was hard too as the air being more dust than oxygen, and it was even more cramped. Did I mention that I couldn't move? Oh yeah, and I had no weapons or anything at all really to help get me out except blind faith that someone would come along to find me. And did I mention THAT I CAN'T FREAKING MOVE?!

Fearful insanity had set in long ago, and my once sharp mind was reduced to a terror-riddled, scrambling mess. Sweat poured down my grimy brow, and I just barely registered the slight tremors that wracked my body as I panted.

I wanted out.

I _needed_ out.

Everything was too close, too cramped.

I couldn't breathe.

There wasn't enough oxygen.

 _Need._

 _Out._

 _Too close!_

 _Too close!_

Blood roared in my ears, and tears streaked my dust covered features. The already cramped space shrunk, getting smaller and smaller, and I was starting to feel dizzy and light-headed. I was going to freaking die.

 _Get me out!_

 _I need out!_

I yearned to scream, to shout for help. But the words refused to come out, and my entire mouth felt dry. Black spots danced in my vision, and it felt like something was constricting my chest, preventing me from inhaling deeply.

 _Out! Out! Out!_

It was too dark, too cramped. _Why couldn't I breathe_?

 _Help! Help! Help!_

Shaking and sobbing, choking and hyperventilating, my lips formed the word 'help' repeatedly but nary a sound came out. Death would be kinder than this torture. Which way was up again? Down? I couldn't tell anymore.

I couldn't hear. I could barely see. Was I even breathing?

 _Help me! Someone get me out of here!_

It could have been a couple minutes to an hour or even an entire day; I could not tell what time it was in my state. Seconds? A day? An hour or minute? Sometimes I swore I even heard things, people calling my name, but my fear was too overpowering to think clearly.

It wasn't until daylight blinded me and a large, warm metal hand scooped me up and pulled me out after removing the earthen slab pinning me, that I realized that I wasn't hearing things.

His lip-plates moved, but with the frantic pulsating of a racing heartbeat in my ears, no sound reached me.

He optics, blue as can be, looked wide and panicked. Not that wasn't right. He was never unnerved by anything.

Among the frenzy of other words, he kept mouthing something over and over. A word? A name?

Ah…ree…uh… Aria! My name! He was saying my name!

"…ria? A…ia! Loo…at…-e…-ttle one! …-ease! Swee…-spark, plea-… look at me! Aria!" his baritone voice called, fading in and out of focus, seeming almost unreal. He sounded…worried?

I was still shaking, barely able to respond as I curled in on myself.

However, when he went to hold me closer to his frame like he did a couple times before in the past when I got over-emotional, I flipped out, screaming and crying, struggling, and trying with all my might to get _away_ from anything that seemed remotely enclosed.

"Aria, calm down. You are safe," Optimus tried to soothe to no avail. I just continued to hyperventilate, breathing erratic and rapid, causing the dark spots to get larger by the second. Had I been more lucid in my fear induced insanity, I would have probably remembered that if I didn't stop soon I could very well pass out, especially considering my current physical condition.

"Aria!"

* * *

—Optimus Prime's POV—

Throughout the course of his life, Optimus could safely say that he had gained a lot of experience. During the war on Cybertron, he had seen a lot of things. So, it was rare for him to be confronted by a situation where he was at a loss for what to do.

His current predicament was a prime example.

Optimus didn't know what to do. When he had pulled Aria from the pile of earthen rubble, covered in dirt and grime, the last thing he expected to find was a quaking, sobbing, shivering mess that was his human charge. She looked utterly terrified! Aria was _never_ frightened. And frankly, that scared him.

"Aria?" he called, but she didn't react. In fact, she didn't seem to hear him at all, and he noticed her ventilation patterns were frighteningly quick and irregular. "Aria! Look at me little one! Please! Sweetspark, please look at me! Aria!"

But she just curled in on herself, tremors wracking her tiny body.

His spark went out to the femme held in his servo. Unsure of what else to do, he brought her form closer to his chassis, hoping that the sound of his thrumming spark might calm her down. However, it didn't quite work out that way because as soon as his digits started to curl around her more, she started panicking anew, struggling to get away.

Why was she so scared?

"Aria, calm down. You are safe," he attempted to reason with her, hoping his reassurance would calm her down. But if anything, her condition only seemed to get worse.

At his wits end, he called her name one last time, louder than the previous attempts. "Aria!"

Finally, she stopped, jolting at the sheer volume of his voice, but nonetheless stilling though her breathing pattern was still slightly erratic and tears continued to fall.

"Sshhhh…Little one, it is alright. You are safe. Please calm down."

"I'm sorry Optimus," she finally hiccupped, knees still drawn to her chest. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have been here. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry." Over and over apologies spewed from those pink lips without pause like the tears that fell down her dusty features as she cried.

Carefully, he ran his thumb-digit over her spine in a soothing pattern while using his other hand to gently brush away the tears. Aside from being unreasonably scared, Aria seemed to be more or less in one piece, which he was extremely thankful for.

"Hush, Sweetspark. All is forgiven," he reassured. In a familiar action, he brushed some of her hair behind her audial as it had fallen out of its confinement. "Just relax. Breathe."

Optimus probably should have been looking for Wheeljack and Bulkhead by now, but the safety and wellbeing of his charge came first and foremost at the moment.

"…," she muttered something lowly, but he did not quite catch it.

"Hm?"

"Claustrophobic. I'm claustrophobic," she admitted, voice a near-whisper. "I…I can't stand dark, cramped places. I can barely stand getting in cars sometimes. When I was a kid, I-…I'm sorry."

Of course, now it all made sense. The aftermath of the mine incident, all those times he had seen her hesitate momentarily before getting into the Autobot's alt-modes, her recent panic attack; it all made sense! It seemed almost foolish that he hadn't picked up on it before.

Reaching out, he gently used a digit to tilt Aria's chin upwards, forcing her to look at him while he brushed his thumb-digit against her cheek. Some of the stuff she used to cover up her facial scars had been wiped away, making them a little more noticeable coupled with the near-traumatized look in her silver-grey eyes. Really, it struck him just how scared she looked which was abnormal for her, and he hated it, loathing himself for being unable to protect her. As her guardian and…friend, he swore to protect her and failing like this made his spark cringe. Especially since he remembered…

"There is no need to apologize little one. We all have our fears. There's nothing wrong with that."

Finally, she gave a dry chuckle, and he was pleased to see how the fear had dissipated. "Thanks Sangroyal. I don' know wha I do withou' a friend like ya."

His spark sank a little at the word 'friend' but nodded anyways, smiling all the same, despite the emotional ache it caused. It wasn't like she would ever see him as anything else.

Aria cleared her throat, wiping her face before saying, "Well, enough mushy stuff. We better find Wheeljack and Bulkhead before they think we forgot them." She plastered a meek smile on her face, though a slight red rawness still remained around her eyes.

Optimus felt he should perhaps say something more, but he didn't know what. Maybe it was just _that memory_ weighing on his processor which he hadn't remembered until recently. He still was unsure of how to address that.

In any case, he nodded, settling her onto his shoulder plates before beginning to dig through the rubble again.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

 _Oh my Primus! I can't believe I actually just told him that! I can't believe that I almost told him everything!_ I thought as I nestled into my guardian's neck cables, watching him search the rubble for signs of Wheeljack and Bulkhead. Of all the things I could have told him, it had to have been my phobia, and I almost spilled my biggest secret along with it.

Okay maybe I'm overreacting; I did almost get turned into a puddle of blood after all. But the entire truth had been virtually on the tip of my tongue only seconds ago. The truth of my entire life, my family, friends, mentors, everything—had been so close to coming to light, and that scared me almost as much as cramped spaces. Yes, I was going to need to come clean eventually to him considering he was going to meet my sister in over a week, but this was too much too soon.

"What took you so long, Bulk? Don't tell me your riding with Prime has made you…soft," Wheeljack grumbled, breaking me out of my thoughts, before trailing off at the end when he realized who was actually helping.

Optimus' faceplates darkened, voice a low rumble as he spoke that sent odd chills down my spine. "If you will not take orders from me, that is one thing. But when you place one of my Autobots and my human charge in danger—"

"With all due respect, sir," Wheeljack cut in, appearing almost physically pained saying that last word. "Bulkhead and the Half-Pint were aware of the risks. Every Wrecker does. Now, I'm sure Bulkhead's just somewhere in this rubble…" he trailed off, turning around and already starting to rifle through the pile.

-{ **Optimus, Bulkhead's signal has moved from your current position.** }- I could hear Ratchet saying over the comm. link from my perch on Optimus' shoulder.

"You coming with?" Wheeljack called, glancing back at us and already making his way towards where the _Jackhammer_ was. Well that was quick.

"Come on Sangroyal. We better hurry before we get left behind by him. Something tells me that he's going to need someone to watching his six," I urged my guardian, well aware of how true that statement was.

However, he didn't move. "Aria, I believe it is best if you return to base," he said carefully, as if he knew he was treading on thin ice.

I blinked in confusion, brows furrowed and an ominous feeling crawling in my heart and stomach. "Excuse me?"

Maybe it was just me, but our relationship as of late had been 'on the rocks' I guess you could put it for lack of a more apt phrase. Awkward even. It was like…he was trying to keep his distance from me for some reason. Yet at the same time, he tried to be protective, shielding me as if I were made of delicate crystal. Does that make sense? It made hanging around him odd, weird even, whenever he did it, like trying to get comfortable in a seat that was nothing but cloth covered steel. But maybe I was just imagining all of this, seeing ghosts where there were none. I'm not sure.

"You have already had a close encounter today," the Prime retorted, optics seeming to have trouble meeting mine. "And you may not be so lucky next time. Please return to base. I do not wish to see you harmed."

I sighed in aggravation. We didn't have time for this. "Optimus, all due respect but no. I've got a stake in this just like everyone else, and I'll be damned if I sit it out. I'm going whether you like it or not, so don't you dare try to stop me because you know I will find a way and will likely end up in more danger than if you let me come."

Those royal blue eyes studied me carefully perhaps searching for some ounce of hesitation or evidence that I was bluffing, so he could capitalize on it convince me otherwise. I wasn't though, and I made it clear with everything I had that I meant what I said.

Eventually, he vented. "Very well." He didn't sound happy about it though.

* * *

—Later—

The ride over turned out to be both amusingly awkward and educational. Awkward and amusing because I witnessed Optimus having to sit hunched over slightly in a ship that was not made for a cybertronian his size, making it comical, and educational since I finally got an idea as to why Wheeljack was suck a loner. Actually, the truth proved to be kind of a no-brainer as I essentially had done the same thing, but I hadn't picked up on it until he had said, and I quote "…alone's usually a lot less complicated." The only people who ever said that were those who found it easier to try to run away from the pain of getting to close to others, unwilling to take a risk and form bonds with others. Selfish as it may seem, Wheeljack was just trying to protect himself.

Anyways, back on topic.

"We are close to population. Remember—," Optimus began as we got out.

"Blasters and fuel pumps don't mix," Wheeljack finished, an impatient light in his optics. "Our boy is just up ahead."

Optimus nodded before turning to me. "Aria—"

"Stay close behind you and be alert," I finished for him, in much the same manner Wheeljack had. "I know."

With little else but the sound of our footsteps to keep us company, I'll admit that the shipping container yard was pretty eerie. Maybe not the haunted house in the dead of night kind of eerie, but the slight fog and looming threat of a Decepticon at large was enough to put me on edge.

Eventually though, we found Bulkhead, in what could be considered a rather compromising position with his hands manacled to a couple containers with some kind of energy cuffs. That is, if he hadn't had a ticking bomb strapped to his chassis like some kind of morbid ribbon or bow.

"Hey, guys," the green Wrecker greeted nervously, breaking the tense silence.

Wheeljack was the first to recover. "Scrap. You really got yourself in a heap of scrap this time, partner," he said dryly, walking over to take a closer look at the explosive.

"Stay back, Jackie," Bulkhead warned though his fellow Wrecker ignored him, muttering to himself as he inspected the device.

"Have you defused one of these before?" Optimus probed.

"Fail-safes, dummy leads, booby traps. It's a work of art."

"That isn't an answer," I pointed out, only to be ignored. Geez, had I become another Miko now? Whatever.

Grey eyes like hardened steel, something about the silence of the area and the whole situation made me uneasy. Yes, it was obviously a trap set by Dreadwing since he wouldn't just truss-up Bulkhead like a Christmas present and leave him here with a ticking explosive. No, bombers usually go for the maximum amount of casualties that they can guarantee. Something was up. Personally, if I was Dreadwing, this would be the perfect place to snipe us, so he could at least injure everyone to make it difficult to escape in time.

But that still banked the question: where? There were multiple perfect places around the area that could serve as good sniping alcoves. He could have been hiding anywhere.

Noticing how equally tense Optimus was, I got his attention, silently gesturing towards the heart of the heart of the shipping container maze where Dreadwing was likely hiding.

He nodded, scooping me up (much to my exasperation) and walking away from the two Wreckers so they might have a chance of diffusing the bomb while we took care of the other immediate threat.

"You know they might not be able to diffuse the bomb in time," I said lowly, taking in my guardian's grim expression. "Dreadwing is likely the only one who knows how to diffuse it."

"Yes, but the fact still remains that we are going to have to catch him first," he agreed.

"Then lucky for us, I've got an idea," I said, smirking mischievously when he finally looked in my direction. I'll admit that something inside me went all warm and fuzzy upon noticing the way his optics softened slightly when he gazed at me.

Quickly, I outlined what I had in mind, and while he didn't seem pleased that I would be involved, he did reluctantly agree in the end since I was technically going to be out of the way.

"Just don't play the hero okay?" I called after him as we parted ways, half-joking, half-serious.

"I will try. Please stay safe Aria."

"I promise nothing except that I'll try."

* * *

—Aria's POV—

If she were afraid of heights, Aria was sure she would have freaked out by now about her current height as she climbed higher and higher on the metal latter, rising well above four stories. Her muscles already started to ache, palms sweaty despite the chilly temperature and slight breeze. For her at least, it felt kind of disappointing that she was already tiring out, making a mental note to work on that later, even if she would never be physically able to reach average peak condition thanks to her arm.

-{ **Dreadwing, if you are anything like Skyquake, I know that you value loyalty and honor.** }- Aria heard Optimus try to appeal to the Decepticon seeker, voice emanating from the little Bluetooth in her ear, which she had managed to hook up to OP's comm. link on her phone.

-{ **Is there a point to your bluster, Prime?** }- Dreadwing retorted as the blonde-haired girl finally managed to reach the cab of the crane, smashing the window with a leather protected elbow and carefully extending her arm past the broken glass to unlock the door from the inside. It was a bit difficult but he managed, making a straight b-line for the control panel and removing the protective covering, so she could hotwire the crane and access magnetic lift.

-{ **Only that Megatron knows nothing of those principles. He lives solely for destruction and conquest, but there is another path: deactivate the bomb.** }-

 _Not the greatest recruiting speech, Sangroyal_ , she thought with a sardonic tone, trying to get the semi-stripped wires in her hands—the ignition/electrical system and the starter motor wires—to cooperate. She knew well enough that insulting a loyal member's leader was not the greatest way to get anyone on your side, or mentioning their dead family member for that matter, especially when you had a role in their demise. However, on the other hand, it certainly made for a good stalling speech, getting the enemy to lash out and focus their anger on you.

 _Come on! Come on! Come on!_ she urged, heart racing in her ears like a ticking timer. "Got it!"

And it was just in time too as she heard Optimus call over the link, -{ **Now, Aria!** }-

The girl didn't waste any time, releasing the holding break on the hoist and letting the giant magnet (and Optimus perched on it) fall right on Dreadwing, pinning the mech soundly.

-{ **Dreadwing, defuse the bomb or fall victim to your own device.** }- Optimus ordered.

Aria frowned little, seeing where this was going. _Dammit Optimus. I said_ don't _play the hero!_

-{ **I will gladly sacrifice myself to avenge my brother.** }- the con merely retorted, voice surprisingly deep yet familiar, almost reminding her of a modern-day knight perhaps.

But the Prime seemed prepared for this response, as he replied sternly, -{ **Then we will, in turn, gladly join the Allspark with our brother.** }-

-{ **And with you.** }- Wheeljack put in. -{ **You'll never shake us.** }-

Even from the safety of the crane cab she was in, Aria could feel the tension in the air, so thick you might just have needed a diamond-coated chainsaw to break it, seconds passing by with an excruciating amount of swift-slowness.

-{ **Very well.** }- the Decepticon finally relented.

Smiling triumphantly to herself, Aria mentally did a little dance for their victory against Dreadwing, rolling her eyes at the oh-so _encouraging_ words of Wheeljack about having narrowed it down his options of which wire to cut all along. Sure, DW (Dreadwing) set off his multitude of other incendiaries immediately afterwards to make a quick getaway, and Fowler was no doubt going to go ballistic and have an entire zoo when he saw the devastation that was caused to the area by Dreadwing's bombs, but she was content to enjoy the moment for now.

Abruptly, Aria's smile faded as her chest began to hurt in a painful way. It felt like she wasn't getting nearly enough oxygen as she should into her lungs as her heart began to pound forcefully enough to visibly shake her entire body. Her entire sternum felt as though it was constricting, and she couldn't do anything except try to use breathing exercises to calm her racing heart. Thankfully though, the forceful pumping of her heart stopped after a couple minutes, and she could breathe normally once again.

But it left her wondering. _What the hell was that?_

* * *

—Later, Base, Optimus Prime's POV—

She was sitting at the edge of the mesa again, staring out at the sunset.

But this time Optimus noticed that there was something different about her; in that moment, he just finally realized just how beautiful the mysterious human looked.

She still looked the same of course, with her long blonde hair and heavily scarred features but it was as if someone had suddenly shone a light on her, highlighting her lovely features for him to finally see.

For some time—or so it felt like to him—Optimus just stood there, staring at the unique creature that was his charge.

He remembered now, thinking that he loved her just before surrendering the power of matrix to Unicron's spark. The memory had resurfaced recently, barely a week ago, but he knew that what he felt for her had not changed, perhaps only growing stronger if anything. But Optimus still felt unsure, having several misgivings about his feelings for her.

Aria, well, she was Aria first and foremost, but she was also human and therefore not naturally programmed to be attracted to an alien being such as himself. They were just so different.

If that wasn't enough, she was young too, barely considered an adult legally by human standards and still eons younger than he was. (Though technically, he was only a couple years older than her in cybertronian terms). Even Bumblebee, the youngest of the Autobots, was ancient compared to Aria.

But despite all this, none of these details changed the fact that Optimus adored the human femme, that his spark sung, calling out to her whenever she happened to be nearby. She made him happy, bringing a new light and a calm, steady presence to the room whenever she entered.

He loved her rare smiles and even rarer laughter, loving how only he seemed privy to them and enjoying how they affected those intelligent grey eyes of hers, making them glitter and shine in spectacular ways. Aria undoubtedly was unique in many ways, and a rare a person indeed even with her snarky yet dry sense of humor and fiery temper. Ever since they met, she was always there for him, even in his darkest moments. She cared little of what others spitefully thought of her, possessing a protective and loyal streak a mile wide to those who earned it, and she valued camaraderie above all else, going so far to treat him as an equal, not just a Prime or leader.

There was just so much he could say about how he loved her, but he admittedly felt afraid to say anything to her. There was just so much that could go wrong and so much he could lose. Namely Aria herself.

Well aware that she probably knew he was there, Optimus called softly, "Aria, are you alright?"

"I've been better. But I'll live. I've made it this far," she admitted, not turning around. Once again, her hair flowed freely down her spinal struts, released from its usual confinements to dance in the slight breezes that flew by like an imitation of golden smoke.

Silence fell once more as he moved to stand by her. However, it didn't feel like their usual comfortable silences; something was brewing, brimming at the surface though neither one of them seemed willing to broach the topic. But both of them knew that someone would have to do so eventually.

"I expect you've come to lecture me on safety again," she spoke softly, resting her chin on her knees, steel-colored eyes fixed on the distant horizon.

"I have," he confirmed. "May I?" He held out his servo, making his intentions clear.

Glancing his way, she nodded, muttering the words "Might as well get this over with" with a despondent sigh much to his sorrow, and allowing him to scoop her up for the umpteenth time that day.

"I'm not going to apologize if that's what you want," the femme quickly informed him. "You know that everything I do is with good reason."

"Yes, but when it comes to your life, I would prefer it if you think about yourself more often," he said, feeling the tension rising.

Those grey optics of hers flashed, warning him of impending disaster. "This coming from the mech who dives headlong into danger without regards to his own safety?" she fired back with a slight sneer, scowling.

"Little one, I am well aware of the risks. I—"

"And I'm not?"

"I never said—"

"Then is it because I'm human? Because I'm not as strong or as durable as a cybertronian?"

"No, I—"

Maybe it was just the stress from the events of the entire day coming back to haunt them that threw them both off, but Aria then did something that surprised them both.

"Optimus Prime, you damn fucking idiot!" she cried, anger drowned by the tide of her freshly spawned tears as she threw herself at him, doing her best to strangle him in an undersized hug. Harmlessly beating her fist against his metal chassis, the blonde-haired girl buried her face into his neckcables as she continued to weakly curse him out, tears streaming down her face. "You stupidly noble, selfless idiot!"

"Aria," he called softly, unsure of what to do besides hold her and make sure that she didn't fall. He hoped she didn't notice of how his armor seemed to steadily heat up a little at the close contact, a sure sign that he was technically blushing.

" _Espèce d'idiot, pourquoi me fais-tu cela?_ " she mumbled, refusing to let go and crying all the while. (You lovable idiot, why must you do this to me?)

Finally, she decided to pull back a little from the Prime's comfortable warmth, just to look him in the optics, though never once releasing her hold on him. "Do you have any idea how worried I was today?!"

"I—."

She slapped his collarcables. "Don't you ever do that to me again! You hear me?"

Where was this all coming from?

"I—."

Then she pounced on him, slamming her lips into his with all the vigor of an angry tiger, not at all put off by their difference in size.

The kiss wasn't nice. It wasn't sweet and slow and full of ardent passion. It was crushing and angry, burning, searing like the blood of the woman who initiated it. Nonetheless, it took his breath away—figuratively speaking—as she ferociously attacked his metals lips with her own small, soft ones.

* * *

—Aria's POV—

Wait, was I—? Was he—? Were we actually—?

Oh sweet Primus above, I was kissing Optimus! And he was kissing me back!

Gods! How did we get to this point? One moment, I had been chewing him out for whatever reason—which I surprisingly can't recall now since everything seemed kinda fuzzy—and then warm metal lips gently pressing, moving against my own and a giddy, bursting feeling in my heart were the next things I registered.

I'm not even exactly sure how I got down after that. There are a couple blank spots in my memory after I kissed him, but I'm pretty sure I somehow managed to freaking apparate from his grasp to the ground as I proceeded to run away like Cinderella at midnight.

Still, one thing was for sure:

…goodbye virginal lips.

* * *

Hahaha. They finally kissed! Huzzah! And all it took was a really rough day on both their ends—though mainly on Aria's—for it to happen. Anyone see that coming? And yes I know a human kissing a cybertronian of OP's size is like a human trying to kiss one of Tinkerbell's pixie friends, but I wanted their first kiss to be in their natural forms. In any case, anyone notice the weird things going on with Aria? I wonder what they could mean for our dear kick-aft girl.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed.

Please favorite, follow, review, and VOTE ON MY NEW POLL. I would like at least 10 individual people to vote. I do accept votes in reviews for those who do not have an account or are too lazy. And I am doing the same thing I did last time where each vote will count as two if you explain your reasoning a little. Also, if you have another name idea, please tell me and I'll add it if I like it. Please vote because the results may affect this story or a possible sequel that I'm aiming for. (HiNT hInT).

 **Five Review Policy** is in effect still as five reviews a day keep the beast away.

Aloha!


End file.
